A Knight in Corbenic
by PikasPuma
Summary: A night of poor decisions leads Sir Lancelot to loathe any mentions of Elaine of Corbenic- until her father writes to him with information that forces him to drop everything and face the long brewing consequences- conveniently manifested in a cute little bundle. If you like the story, please leave a review.
1. Chapter 1

"Sir Lancelot- I've a letter for you—from his Majesty of Corbenic," the messenger announced, reaching the knight and offering a parchment. The name Corbenic sent the other knights into bated breath while Lancelot's throat began to swell.

"Majesty," Sir Gawain whispered to his king, both their eyes locked on Lancelot as his twitching fingers take and open the letter, "doesn't the fair Lady Elaine hail from Corbenic?"

"Yes—and since she was here last, Lancelot hadn't been himself, do you remember? Hardly showed anyone or anything mercy for a spell." The king laughed as Gawain rubbed a sore spot on his arm, a wound from what was supposed to be a friendly sparring match between them, but ended up with Lancelot's rod near splintering.

The knight of discussion widened his eyes, causing Gawain to snort while Lancelot's grip tightened on the parchment paper. "I wager he's fighting with Cupid- the only foe he can't reach with his blade!" As they laughed at this revelation, Lancelot spun on his heels and darted to his quarters with the letter in his fist.

"What do you think would make the fearless Sir Lancelot turn tail?" Gawain hummed to his blue king, who could only offer a shrug before musing, "Perhaps Lady Elaine's illness has worsened- the one that caused her absence a few months back?"

* * *

Sir Lancelot shut the door to his room and stared at the ink on the paper, squinting to make sense it, even though he knew what it meant. Couldn't be. It wasn't possible—no, it was, but-! How long would he regret ever hearing of Corbenic or agreeing to the requests of its king—he looked at the letter again-

Why was he saddling his horse? The king's letter had assured him there was no worry- yet!

Mayhaps that wench is deceiving me again, he growled as he mounted his steed, urging it to gallop—his grip on the reins tight and shaking. It wouldn't be the first time.

* * *

"Your Majesty—approaching is Sir Lancelot of Camelot," a servant informed King Pelles. A smile spread across the king's muzzle. He marveled at the knight's speed—a safe journey from Camelot to Corbenic took at least two days- it had been three since he had sent the letter.

"As long as I am king, Sir Lancelot is always a welcomed guest in my home," he chuckled. "Make sure is there is a room prepared for him, and I'd like to see him before he retires."

Even in the dark, King Pelles could see the effects of Lancelot's journey taking a toll on him. "Where is she?" His heavy breathing masked whatever emotion he wanted to convey, be it fear or anger. The king motioned to keep their voices low, though he was careful, walls had ears.

"Sleeping and in sound health, both of them." Lancelot's brow raised, eyes widening. King Pelles considered the knight's circumstances and empathized with the reaction.

"Who…who else knows about this?" he whispered.

"Only the three of us, and I swear to you, I intend to keep it that way; Elaine was adamant about that." Lancelot's maroon eyes narrowed, and King Pelles added, "Despite her circumstances, my daughter doesn't wish to harm your reputation, Sir Lancelot."

The knight held his panting, and the full toll of the trip weighed down his shoulders. "Then… Majesty… why did you write the letter?"

The old king smiled, "I thought you had a right to know as the father of the child." Lancelot bit his tongue- probably contemplating questioning his daughter's promiscuity, but the knight's eyes were resigned.

"The journey must have been hard on you," King Pelles clapped Lancelot's shoulder and lead him to his room. "As I've said before, you are always welcome in Corbenic."

* * *

The cries of a baby woke Lancelot from his fitful sleep. The crying quieted soon after, but… He held his breath to listen to the soother's voice, but the castle's thick walls made it indistinguishable. Was that Elaine, or maybe the King had hired a midwife? As he got out of bed he considered trying to see the infant, but the baby's mother… he had been trying to forget her for the past year, now. Ever since she'd left Camelot with her father, her image invaded his mind whenever he saw another woman. He'd thought that she'd bewitched him again, but a visit with Lady Nimue told him otherwise...

Lancelot met with King Pelles first, the king informing, "No, she doesn't know you're here, Sir Lancelot. I can send for her as she's able to," he offered, guiding him to a sitting room where they'd be undisturbed.

"How has she been… with the child, I mean."

"It has been difficult for her-" the queen of Corbenic, Elaine's mother, had been deceased since Elaine was six or seven years old, and King Pelles had not remarried, "but I've been keeping an eye on her—well, when I'm not busy with my duties, and she has Briselda, her midwife, looking after her when I cannot. The child has been unprecedentedly well-behaved. The boy rarely cries- doesn't raise his voice above a whimper when he's hungry. He's brought Elaine much joy since his birth."

Lancelot felt a foe slice at his chest from within- that which brought her joy was born of weakness and deception. He swallowed and responded with, "I'm glad she's happy."

* * *

An eternity passed before the door opened and a stifled gasp entered. Lancelot braced himself and turned carefully as if testing a weathered path. He hadn't seen her in nearly a year but she hadn't changed. Her beauty was in her fair skin and pitch hair, a combination unknown to anyone in Camelot, emphasized even more so when combined with her almost-white fur and dark blue eyes. Lancelot recalled all of Camelot marveling at her when he brought her to her visiting father, and King Arthur and Gawain jesting with him, since Elaine came back with only his cape to clothe herself with, the knaves. Elaine's beauty rivalled even Queen Guinevere's, but that was comparing the moon with the sun. She was wearing a nightdress and a robe- not decently dressed for company, but it didn't matter since they'd…

He couldn't bring himself to address her as 'Lady Elaine.' "So you've had a son," he looked away from her gaze.

"What… what are you doing here?" Her voice trembled… did she think he came here to kill her this time?

He deflected her question but it still stung. He'd been asking that question since he set out for Corbenic— _what are you doing, Lancelot._ He glanced at her and she shied away, unable to look him in the eyes, too. If she thought he was here to kill her, she should keep an eye on him- as Lancelot was taught to keep an eye on his foes. She wasn't a foe, but he doubted she would call him a friend. What friend puts a blade to their throat? He often asked if it was the right thing to spare her- she was the noble King Pelles's daughter, and killing her might have severed Camelot's relationship with Corbenic…but it was more than that.

"The king wrote me saying as much," he replied, causing her to flinch and squeeze her hands together.

"I-I only told my father- he swore that he wouldn't tell anyone-" she rambled, losing her voice, drooping her ears. Their eyes met a moment before she shied away from his.

"His Majesty assured me that he intends to keep that, as do you." Though he was grateful for it, her discretion puzzled him—why not drag him into the mire with her? But a cold rapier thrusted into his gut; she was still that girl with the fever that night in the woods.

"I… I see…" she sighed, closing her eyes. She hummed before opening them, "So… why did you come here?" she asked again, the question hitting its mark with her glance. Lancelot held his breath but relented with the truth.

"I…I am not sure myself…" he sighed, lowering his head. The silence chilled him, as did his worry, but they were slain by Elaine's voice.

"Would you… would you like to see him?"

His head snapped up, fire burning in his cheeks as his chest swelled. "I…I would be honored to."


	2. Chapter 2

As she led Lancelot to her chambers, Elaine wondered if the boiling cauldron she suffered for five years was only one facet of Morgan le Fay's punishment. Cook her sense out, erode her hope day by day, then- just as it was lost, allow one knight to save her; One handsome, young knight whose unknown skill was stealing hearts.

She regretted her last night in Camelot, the sendoff feast, where she watched Lancelot gaze upon his Queen as the unobtainable prize. What possessed her to think that by assuming Guinevere's guise that he would love her instead? She wished he'd refused, but his ale-weakened restraint buckled. Why didn't she stop him?

She'd overestimated her stamina, and fainted, reversing her appearance to the woman Lancelot now despised. Perhaps he spared her not out of mercy, but out of cruelty- she now had to live as a sullied maiden, even if seldom few knew her to be one.

Nearing the door, a cold knife thrusted into her heart- what if he's come to kill us?

The knife shifting as she did, Elaine opened the door to her bedchamber.

* * *

Lancelot didn't realize he had expectations for a mother's room until he entered Elaine's- it was very much like the guest chambers he was staying in for now. Elaine crossed the room and leaned over the bed, cooing. Ice arrows halted his advance- the first after many battle-hardened years. What sort of curse hung over the air of this castle and its family to make his nerves throb and muscles tighten?

"It's all right…" she soothed the bundle, lifting it into her arms. She turned around and Lancelot felt his legs brace- _Ease!_ She unfolded the fabric and gave a warm smile to it. "There's someone who wants to see you."

All he could focus on was the little face blinking away sleep. A great axe cleaved his chest in two- the mother was more prominent, but staring long enough he could see himself staring up at him. The infant had striking fur that shone like a white blade in the sun, and bright sunflower-petal eyes. His skin wasn't as fair as Elaine's, and his cheeks drowned in a snowy mane around his neck. The baby cooed at Lancelot.

"This is Sir Lancelot," Elaine said, offering the infant a closer look- or was it an offering to take him? Before he knew it the little bundle was in his arms, and a warm lightness filled his chest. Holding the child was just like holding Arondight when he was given it…

"Hello…" he whispered. As if knowing the hard, proud reputation of the knight before him, the infant laughed. The great Sir Lancelot- reduced to a meek facsimile! King Arthur's court would roar in laughter- but Lancelot pushed the thought of them out of his mind with a smile at the baby. The child's smile grew, and the warmth spread to the knight's cheeks.

"What's his name?" he wondered, offering the newborn a finger- the infant's mouth stretched in awe and then widened in a toothless laugh.

Elaine hummed, "I…I haven't given him one yet." She hadn't? Well, wasn't it a father's duty to…

"May I… offer a suggestion?" he managed, focusing on the baby. It was an old name, and only Nimue would know… she didn't leave the Lake often. "Across my travels… I came across a name of a prince of a forgotten land... For some reason, I think the name would suit him…"

"That name was Galahad." And once… that was my name, too.

"Galahad?" Elaine echoed, looking at the white baby. "Galahad… I…I think that suits him fine," he could hear her mouth smile. "Thank you, Sir Lancelot."

 _Thank you, Sir Lancelot…_ He could hear fire crackling, felt the cool night breeze brush past him, and he saw the girl he swore to find and return to her father, fire dancing in her wonder-filled eyes… After she left, the face always resurfaced…

"That's not a curse, Lancelot," Lady Nimue had laughed when he explained. "What you're describing is love."

"But I care _nothing_ for this woman,"he'd growled- "It has to be some sort of enchantment."

Nimue hummed, still smiling, "If you don't want to believe it, then perhaps you should throw yourself into your knightly tasks. Grieving over this will only drive you mad." Lancelot's fellow knights would unknowingly rue the day he followed that advice- even King Arthur had treaded carefully around him.

"You seem even more hot-blooded than Gawain these days, Lancelot- is something bothering you?" the king once asked in private. He had only started to say the last word when Lancelot huffed, _"No,"_ a hair too quick.

His Majesty hummed, rubbing his nose. _"Ohh…_ does this have to do with E-"

"Nothing whatsoever, sire, you're imagining things," he growled and sulked away, the frustration stinging his cheeks. Whether or not it was visible was another matter entirely- but there was no doubt that after that conversation King Arthur had told the rest of the knights what Lancelot had been so worked up over- but for the wrong reasons. He avoided conversations steered towards Corbenic not because he was embarrassed, but because he was _livid-_ and half a year later, when King Pelles attended a feast without his daughter, his fellow knights were surprised that Lancelot smirked at the state of the absent Elaine's health. Then once King Pelles left, Lancelot's attitude shifted yet again- much to their confusion.

"Lancelot? Are you all right?" Elaine's voice brought Lancelot's vision back to the little hedgehog in his arms, beaming up at him and then gurgling towards his mother. She was hovering next to Lancelot and her hand lay on his shoulder. Her eyes were dark and cloudy- and they weighed on his chest with every moment he stared back at them.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he turned back to the baby. "Forgive me… I… I didn't sleep very well last night." Her hand lifted from his shoulder with the lightness a butterfly taking off. "It's my own fault- my horse is probably in a worse state than I am."

Mirroring Lancelot's fatigue, the infant yawned, wrinkling his nose and sniffling. Elaine picked up the baby and held him close to her. "You'd better go and get some rest," she suggested, stroking the head of her son. "Galahad will still be here when you wake up."

Galahad… He couldn't remember being called that, or even imagine himself being called that now, but ever since he saw that name, knowing it was once the only name he ever had, the name tugged at his heart like a child that longed to be remembered. _Remember me…_

"So… you're all right with me staying here and seeing him?" he wondered, meeting her gaze, still clouded.

She hummed a little and nodded, "I… It's fine, yes." She soothed the bundle, then, "You'd better go before Briselda comes back."

Lancelot wanted to thank her but his hesitation would have wasted the time he had to go back to his room.

* * *

Once Lancelot left, Elaine sat down on her bed with Galahad in her arms, the baby nestled against her. The nine months of being locked away- not out of spite or in torturous conditions, and the pains that came with them, they had all been pushed away once he took his first breath. In only four days she'd forgotten the nightmares of Lancelot's blade cutting her throat- which had grown more horrid once she realized she was with child- but having him appear so suddenly threatened them to resurface.

She quieted herself by soothing Galahad, who slept unaware. Calm down- your father would never let him near you if he thought Lancelot meant you any harm. And Lancelot wouldn't harm any child, let alone his own. The way he had smiled down at him, the sincere pride and wonder, filled her with warm relief- she had made him happy without any underhandedness…

Three knocks preceded "Lady Elaine? May I come in?" With her approval, Briselda entered with a smile. "You're up earlier than I thought you'd be, milady. Did the baby wake you?"

"Earlier, but he's calmed down now," she cooed as Briselda hovered over her and Galahad.

"Still the 'ealthiest babe I've ever seen, milady," the dust-gray hedgehog giggled at the sleeping infant. "'ave you thought of any names yet?"

She hummed, considering her words carefully. "Maybe… I'm sure I'll have one by tomorrow."

"Lot of buzz about the 'alls," Briselda confided, "you won't believe who's 'ere in Corbenic." Elaine feigned curiosity to appease her midwife's spirited nature. Her grin threatened to split her muzzle in half before she finally spilled, "Sir _Lancelot!_ 'e's 'ere, in the castle, right now!"

As if recognizing the name, Galahad began laughing and fidgeting- bouncing him, Elaine maintained her façade. "Lancelot? Here? Why?"

"I dunno yet, ma'am, 'e's still asleep." A devilish grin accompanied the glint in Briselda's purple eyes, "May'aps to court a certain young lady?"

The thought of it still reddened her cheeks even though it was now unlikely. "Sir Lancelot's not the kind of knight to concern himself with such things, Briselda," she mumbled, watching Galahad squirm in her arms.

"Why else would 'e come all the way 'ere?"

"My father may have sent for him," she admitted, attending to her son. "He's always offering a reward to him, for all he's done for Corbenic."

"And for _you,"_ Briselda added. "From what I've 'eard, you two got along splendidly."

"That was a long time ago, Briselda, and before- before all this happened," she managed, petting Galahad for strength. "I'm sure he's saved countless maidens between then and now."

"Not that I've 'eard of. You shouldn't think of yourself so lowly, milady."

"Even so, I'm in no state to be courted," she sighed as Galahad gurgled. "Can't parade around as something I'm not, Briselda." The last time I did that, he almost killed me for it.


	3. Chapter 3

As he crossed Elaine's room, King Pelles allowed himself a small smile as he watched his grandson nestled in her arms. He regretted having to ignore Elaine while she was with child- a necessary facade to keep her secret; by the time the news of Elaine giving birth reached him, Briselda had already single-handedly delivered him.

"How are we today, my dear?" he asked as he sat next to her. Elaine turned her head, eyes cloudy.

"Why did you tell him?" she grumbled. "You swore you wouldn't tell anyone."

"Well, he _is_ the father, Elaine. I believe he has a right to know about him," he said, despite four days prior, as she held the newborn, she had sighed with shaky breath.

"Why do I wish he was here?" she had whispered. "Why do I want him here?" After she had finally gone to sleep, he'd sat down and wrote the letter, sending it off soon after.

"Be honest with me, Elaine," King Pelles began, "were you ever going to tell him yourself?"

She turned her head away from him. "He hates me- he wanted to kill me." Elaine had been waking up screaming for months after returning home, clutching her neck. Taking this as well as the other small revelations she eventually told him, he could only assume that Lancelot had believed he had been with someone else- and had reacted violently to the truth.

"He can't still harbor those feelings." If he put himself in Lancelot's situation, he found it hard to want to kill the mother of his own child. "Especially if he's seen the boy," he added, beaming at his sleeping grandchild.

Elaine only mumbled to herself, her eyelids falling shut under their own weight. The king left the room as mother and child slept.

* * *

He held the blade to her throat, forcing a gasp out of her lips. If she dared to say anything at all, he would slice them out of her neck. Say something, you succubus- give me the order to kill you.

Her shock at being awoken to Arondight against her neck fell to sorrow, and she lowered her head and closed her eyes- her throat quivered with a stifled whimper. A bead of water welled from the corner of her eye, but she said nothing.

His grip shook as he gritted his teeth— _fight!_ You just won back your life- are you going to give it up over this? A choked sound escaped him as his hand grew less steady.

He threw Arondight to the floor.

* * *

The clatter woke Lancelot- even as a memory, the sound haunted him- perhaps not the sound itself, but the silence that preceded it; it could have easily ended with a much heavier silence.

Why hadn't she fought back- plead or struggle for her life like she did for five years? Why did she surrender to dying at his hand instead of to le Fay's? Why did she want to bare all the consequences of one foolish decision?

He recalled turning away from Elaine after throwing Arondight- searching his tainted memory for answers he couldn't find, for a motive for why she would do something so stupid, why _he_ would do something so _stupid_ \- As if the queen would abandon her king for him!

As he had tried to unravel his mind, the sound of his door shutting grabbed his attention- she was gone. He never exchanged a word with her until yesterday- perhaps he should have asked King Pelles about the nature of her "illness" when he last visited Camelot…

Occasionally, a hazy recollection would resurface; a whisper, a touch- sometimes his senses remembered something that caused his hands to shake and his cheeks to burn, usually in the company of others as a cruel joke. Even with the fragments he had, Lancelot knew keeping them secret was best for Camelot. A few moments of lost composure was a small sacrifice for the reputation of the Round Table.

The morning light caught the gleam of Arondight's always-sharp edge, the sword standing guard against the far wall. Why did he leave his armor behind but not his blade? The king didn't ask him to come, let alone petition him to embark on a quest.

A shudder struck his body as he thought of _Galahad's_ blood staining the edge-

He crossed the room to take in the cool, pine scented air from the window. The crisp breeze of the countryside before sunrise steadied his thoughts... taking Arondight was a force of habit for him, he wouldn't have brought it here to follow through with his initial instinct- _especially_ if she had given birth.

His stomach twisted itself up when he thought about Elaine- as if anger and empathy were wrestling within him. She betrayed his trust and stole something from him- but she hadn't exactly twisted his arm into it. That didn't condone her actions- but neither did it condone killing her for it.

Lancelot pinched his brow with a heavy sigh... Oh, Elaine, why did you do this?

* * *

Briselda chatted away while she was tending to Galahad- the infant gurgling at her while Elaine wanted nothing more than to shut her up. This morning her back felt broken and jagged- her chest was prickling and she couldn't make herself comfortable and go back to sleep. Standing and moving around eased the pain- but now she was cramping again.

"You should 'ave told me if your back was 'urtin' you, Lady Elaine. I could've fixed that in no time at all- all you need to worry about is rest."

 _But he's here,_ she wanted to groan at Briselda- who probably would've assumed she thought she wanted to see him- far from it. Elaine moaned as she remembered it was her own father that had sent for him- why did everyone want her to talk with him? A pinching pain made her wince as she turned away from Briselda.

"I know you're anxious 'cause Sir Lancelot's 'ere-" she never stopped, did she? "- and maybe 'e came all this way to see you and you 'ave this _beautiful_ little baby, yes, yes you are- and you don't know what to do"- she'd never believe that the great, handsome Sir Lancelot was Galahad's father, and in turn, almost his murderer- Elaine's body quaked with the memory of cold steel against her neck- "but you just need to focus on takin' care of this sweet little thing here."

Galahad laughed as he came into her view, and Elaine couldn't scowl at his big yellow eyes, no matter how much her body hurt. He looked just like him- the Lancelot she loved. Lancelot probably was still the same- he just showing a different side to her... another shudder.

Galahad's tiny hand pressed against her cheek, cooing and gaping into her eyes- a sweet little thing indeed. Elaine nosed her son's thick hair covering his forehead, making him squeal and giggle. She pulled the baby to her chest, his laughter tickling her heart.

"...anyway, it's not like Corbenic is in any sort of peril right now- 'e _must_ 've come to see you. Oh, what's 'e _like,_ Lady Elaine?" Elaine almost didn't hear the last couple of sentences- Briselda had finally stopped talking.

"Huhm? Who?"

Briselda harrumphed, "Sir _Lancelot,_ who else?" Elaine clamped her eyes, her body aching as she sighed. Again she pestered her about him- another groan made the midwife finally back away. "Oh- forgive me... milady- I was just tryin' to- to take your mind off of the pain. Does it 'urt to talk?"

"Every bone in my body aches and my skull is being crushed," she moaned, neglecting that any mentions of Lancelot froze her stomach. Thankfully, Briselda carried on her duties without any more lectures- just a quiet "All right, then... I'll let you and little Gala'ad rest"- her tongue couldn't fathom the hard _H_ in the middle of Galahad, turning it into Gal-uh-add instead. "I'll come back later, all right?"

Elaine could only groan in response, curling herself around Galahad, who cooed and wiggled as if making himself comfortable enough to sleep. The constant ebb and flow of his energy drained her own- another punishment, probably. Was her whole life going to be a barrage of punishments? le Fay's first wasn't even warranted- she hadn't boasted about her powers or her appearance; to her, they were just gifts to be grateful for. Yet, evidently, le Fay had interpreted it as a challenge.

"You think you're better than me, don't you?" she had sneered, dangling Elaine over her soon-to-be prison. "Because you're such a _pretty little thing."_ Elaine, only thirteen years old, was petrified at the snarling witch. "Because you have _powers._ Hmph!"

The glint of her wicked grin burned into Elaine's eyes as a growling chuckle rose in Morgan le Fay's throat.

"Let's see how well _your_ magic fares against mine, shall we?"

As Elaine began to scream, she hit the scalding water- like bathing in liquid flames. She surfaced for air but le Fay held her head below the surface, relishing in her flailing around as the burning water flooded her mouth-

With her powers, even though her head was submerged and she was gasping for air, le Fay's voice rang in her ears as if she was whispering in her ear- "They'll never find you. And if your father's as wise as anyone thinks he is, he won't waste any effort looking for you. You're as good as _dead."_

She disappeared, leaving only her laughter behind- Elaine broke the surface and expelled as much of the swallowed water as possible in a fit of coughing. There hadn't been a bottom to the cauldron- she clawed at the edges, trying to climb out of there- but le Fay had cursed it so that she couldn't leave. Elaine's breathing grew more frantic- she had to get out of here- she was going to die here if she didn't-

Even now, she couldn't believe she was able to preserve herself for so long- she had been inexperienced at magic, using it only to amuse herself with shapes made of light. The only healing she'd practiced had been on wilting flowers and skinned knees- but to keep her physical body intact for five years?

 _"You're incredible, Elaine."_

Her cheeks burned at the echoed compliment- hard to believe _he'd_ said that... but it still filled her with a warmth that she still couldn't fight against.


	4. Chapter 4

A cool sensation swept through Elaine's body. She groaned as she opened her eyes- if she was dead or dreaming, why was she in so much pain? A fuzzy heaviness sat in the front of her skull, warping the world into unfocused clutter. She began to sit up- there was a cloth draped around her. So dark, where was she...she blinked to focus her eyes- shapes of trees and grass began to form. Outside... try to remember... something came inside the room- there was a hand-

She turned her head- a fire, not too far from where she was... and sitting, staring into it with an equal or even greater intensity, was the first person she'd seen in ages; a dark hedgehog A helmet next to him reflected the orange light of the fire- a knight? Yes, he was wearing the rest of the armor- a knight.

The hedgehog turned his head towards her- his eyes weren't orange like she thought, they were red- and now they were soft, filling her with a warmth Elaine had nearly forgotten.

"Lady Elaine?" he asked, "are you all right?" She nodded, opening her mouth only to cough- disuse was scratching her throat.

"Wh...Where am I?" she coughed with a low, rough voice.

"We're about two days ride from Camelot." She put a hand to her head, forgetting the state of her clothes for a moment.

"Uhnn... Cor-corbenic... what about... King Pe-" she devolved into hoarse coughing- but somehow the message got through to him.

"Corbenic still stands, and your father is alive and well." The knight walked over to her, offering some water- cool and clear, soothing her ragged voice. "He's visiting King Arthur in Camelot, and he sent me to find you."

Elaine's head moved faster than her body- she was on her feet- "I have to see him- my-" her weak legs collapsed and she fell into her rescuer. Her knees quaked and her face burned against the cool metal- like a stumbling newborn calf, she cringed, and just as bare-! She tried speaking but her face forced every noise to be a sort of whimpering moan. Elaine forced herself to face him- "oh.."

An orange shimmer of alarm in his eyes were extinguished with a relieved sigh- "I admire your spirit, my lady, but I don't think you could get very far in your current state." The dark hedgehog corrected her posture and lowered her back to the ground. My lady? B-bu-but she was just a little-

Elaine stifled a shriek after examining herself- not anymore, evidently- at this rate, her fur would be red forever- "H-how long have-" cough cough cough... Her voice wasn't low from disuse, it was _matured-_ she was a full-fledged lady-

"Your father said it had been five years since Morgan le Fay kidnapped you," the knight relented, kneeling down next to her, "and I'm sure he'll be happy to see that you're all right."

"Five... _years?-_ cough, cough, cough..." she shook her head, shuddering, despite how her body was burning up. "No... no..." She tightened the cloth around herself- even her tears felt hot on her cheeks. She didn't think she had any tears left after all the crying she had done-

His hand touched her shoulder- he hadn't come closer, out of respect, maybe? He said nothing as she began to run out of tears again- she didn't know whether the silence was better or worse than talking to her.

When her tears ran dry and her whimpering slowed, she glanced at her rescuer- "Oh... I'm- sorry... I-uhn.."

"It's fine," he assured. "I can't even begin to imagine the pain you've had to endure all that time- and then to learn that so much time had passed..."

"Uhnn, no, it's-snuff- not that- I-uhnn... I haven't asked for your name," she wiped the remainder of the tears away from her eyes. The hedgehog's ear flicked and his eyes flashed-

"Oh. It's- Lancelot." The dark furred knight looked away, brow pinching, as if concentrating on a problem he hadn't solved yet, the fire's reflection present once more. His gaze softened whenever he glanced at her, though- making her flinch, but why?

"I don't mean to upset you, but how exactly _did_ you survive that?" he asked, tiny sparks of energy in his eyes.

Elaine shrank away, humming- "um... I... I used a magic spell..." Intermittent with coughs, she explained to Lancelot how she had been able to cast a spell that kept her alive despite a lack of food- even as she told him, she couldn't believe it herself- a young girl somehow mustering the power to endure the death trap conjured by Morgan le Fay? And for _five years?_

"You're incredible, Elaine," he laughed, searing her fur red. "I don't think _I_ could've lasted that long."

"I-I couldn't last another day," she stammered- she'd gotten used to her voice, and the coughing was dying, but she was still stumbling with her words- is it the fever, or...

"Uhnn... th-than- thank you, Sir Lancelot," she breathed, staring at him. Was it because he was the only person she'd seen in five years- had she almost forgotten what people looked like? Was that it?

His mouth twitched into a smile, and a shimmer in his eyes stopped her heart. "You're more than welcome, Lady Elaine."

* * *

Knocking jolted Elaine awake- Galahad still sleeping, she carefully moved off the bed to answer the door. Father? How long had he been knocking... "Just a moment-"

 _Lancelot-_ how could she forget _he_ was here? "I'm sorry- did I wake you?" he asked, less distant than yesterday- "I...I was hoping that, I..."

She let him step inside, shutting the door after him, even though her stomach was screaming not to- "He's sleeping, but he'll be up a-"

He was facing her, arms crossed- that little moment from the past gone again, more nausea- "That's not, _exactly_ why I came..." Galahad's whimpering snapped both of their heads to the bed, and even from this angle she could see the orange flash of concern in his eye. She hurried- wincing at the sudden movement- but she scooped up the bundle before he woke up and started crying.

"There, there," she cooed the half-awake baby, holding him to her chest- "I didn't forget you- you're not alone. You're safe..." Elaine turned towards Lancelot- Galahad had his undivided attention, and the dark hedgehog mirrored the same wonder-filled expression his son had. She moved over toward him- "Here- he just wants to hear a heartbeat," she offered, passing the infant to him, "-there."

Lancelot stared, petrified with a smile that mimicked her own father's- he only let out a nervous laugh when he realized Galahad was fully asleep again. Elaine sat down on the bed as he grew calmer with his son against him.

"He's..." he trailed off, leaving Elaine to guess- Beautiful? Perfect? Perhaps maybe even adorable?

Lancelot laughed, glancing at her. "He's just like you."

Despite hearing the same sentiment from her father and Briselda, she could feel her _ears_ turning red- "M-me?" Well, yes, they did have similar color fur... but that was all there was- "I mean... a-a little."

He returned to Galahad, humming to himself. "I guess you wouldn't have known, to be fair," he hummed. "What I meant was, he's an exact likeness of you- in the woods."

She wanted to jump into a frozen river to get rid of all the heat in her body forever- "I- I can barely even remember those nights," she mumbled. "I must've been a handful for you."

He walked over and sat on the bed beside her, thankfully not too close- "No... you were just... confused. You were burning up, and you just wanted to see your father again.

"There were nights when you woke up screaming because you thought you were back in that bath, and the only thing that could calm you down was my armor, do you remember that?"

She rubbed her temple, "Maybe- it seems familiar..."

"Well, because you were practically on fire, every time I had to calm you down, you always leaned against me, since I was always wearing my chestplate. And you'd fall asleep," he explained, glancing at Galahad, whose mouth was slightly open now- "looking just like him."

Elaine's skin was probably stained by now- just like him- did she snore, drool and whine-

"And I was just as afraid to move away from you as I am afraid of moving him now," he added, laughing. "Are you ever afraid of hurting him?"

She hummed, "Sometimes... it's something you get used to. Did you ever- were you ever afraid that you would break your sword?" Another nervous laugh- it'd been awhile since she heard his genuine laugh... Maybe Galahad would get to hear it, someday.

"The first time I held Galahad," he sighed, "it was just like when I held Arondight... She was a gift from the Lady of the Lake, made from the stars themselves. How could I be holding the stars in my hands, I thought. The first couple of nights I'd stare up at the sky trying to see if any had disappeared- just as foolish as you can imagine- and I never let her out of my sight for an instant."

"Sounds familiar," she laughed, imagining the blade she once feared being coddled over by a young Lancelot. "And when did you stop fretting over her?"

A hint of pink came to his cheek, "Well... I... don't think I _stopped_ fretting over her...just eased up." He rubbed a finger up and down Galahad's forehead, "She's not fused to my hand anymore, but I always take care of her..." He started laughing to himself- more natural. "Not unlike a mother, now that I think about it."

"I doubt Arondight woke you in the middle of the night so you could clean her for third time," she huffed, shooting a loving glare at her sleeping son. "Or that she came with her own chattering handmaid that nagged you for holding her the wrong way."

Now Lancelot was chuckling, his laughing making a smile form on his son's face- somehow not waking him. Elaine's chest lightened at the sound.

"I understand, the wondering," she hummed. "I still wonder, sometimes- how could I be carrying a life inside of me? How..." she held her hands out, trying to express her sentiments. "How could I have... had a person inside me all that time?" How on earth did she deliver something so pure when...they...

Elaine kept that last thought to herself as she beamed at the baby in the dark hedgehog's arms; he turned towards the patch of white fur, clutching strands of it in his tiny fist. Part of her was glad that Galahad liked him, even if he couldn't understand their familial ties- second only to the inverse: that Lancelot loved Galahad, even if he couldn't shout from the highest point in the land their ties.

Perhaps that was what he wanted to talk about before Galahad had started to wake up- Galahad's future? Only a few possibilities were open to them: leaving Galahad in the care of her grandaunt, where he'd be raised at a nunnery, virtually removed from both Corbenic and Camelot- and thus his parents since any long, unexplained absences would arouse suspicion; having Elaine raise him on her own, within or without Corbenic, but never disclosing his father's identity, preserving Lancelot's but tarnishing Galahad's and her own; the unlikely option of Lancelot just taking the boy to Camelot with some tale of destroyed villages and a lone survivor among the bodies- but their actions thus far had erased this path.

He started wiggling in Lancelot's arms, eyes blinking open slowly. Lancelot gazed down, a tiny speck of fear floating in his red iris. "Hello, there, little Galahad," he whispered. "Do you remember me?" Elaine inched closer to get within Galahad's line of sight so he wouldn't cry. After spotting his mother he stared back at Lancelot, smiling up at him. "Yes, that's right... what a sharp little man you are," Lancelot cooed, sending the baby into a laughing fit by tickling his stomach. Instinctively the boy kicked and grabbed at the hand, the fight widening his father's grin.

"I imagine this is a new kind of foe for you, Sir Lancelot," she hummed as her son tried to stave off the attacking hand.

"He's spirited, I'll give him that," he _hmph_ ed in jest, easing up- now Galahad was pulling his hand closer, the baby's tiny hands exploring the length of the object, gaping and laughing- the great unbeatable Lancelot had surrendered the duel.

"I think he has an unfair advantage of being your son," she mused, leaning to watch her son play with his trophy.

"Hah. Do you think I'd take pride in defeating a child?" He shot her a glance that hiccuped her heart- no dark clouds behind his eyes, no sharp-edged judgements... at least for a moment, then the clouds reappeared and he turned away. Elaine's ribs grew cold, her heart faltering as she sighed.

* * *

 **Yo! So this chapter is getting** _ **really**_ **long, so that's why I'm stopping it here- don't worry, I'm working on it as we speak! (** **｡･** **ω** **･** **)** **ﾉﾞ** **\- PikasPuma**


	5. Chapter 5

Lancelot only realized he had frowned when Elaine sighed- his stomach had knotted up at the sight of her again. He glanced at Galahad- staring up at him with big yellow eyes and an infectious smile. Lancelot tapped the infant's tiny black nose, issuing forth giggles. His laughter seemed to settle his stomach.

"So... what was the reason you came, Sir Lancelot?" she asked. "You said it wasn't just Galahad, not exactly."

Galahad grabbed his finger, tugging it around. "Well, yes, I wanted to see him, too... but..." his mouth became dry and bitter-tasting afterward, hard to swallow the taste back in. "I...I was hoping I could talk to you... if-if that's all right with you," he added, facing her again.

She flinched, but her voice wasn't as shaken as it had been yesterday. "Oh... About Galahad, or..." she trailed off, staring at her son. She hummed then mumbled something about him being hungry soon- to herself, probably, so Lancelot decided to ignore it and focus on answering her question.

"Just...conversation. We haven't seen each other in ages...and I don't even know if you've even left this room since you've been here." The boy released his grip on Lancelot's finger, gurgling and looking around for something more interesting. "You're probably both restless."

"It's just- just that Galahad... someone might see him," she mumbled, "I-I don't know what I'd do if..." she started to trail off, but then brightened up- "ah- hold on for a moment-" she stood up and slipped behind the changing screen in the corner.

Galahad cooed up at Lancelot, he stroked under the baby's chin, making him laugh and squeal. When his head jerked around, his fur caught the light- striking silver fur. At first, he thought the boy had just inherited a more gray than white version of his mother's fur-the more gray coming from his own black fur- but it was actually _silver,_ changing from white to light-gray to gray depending on the light. When he'd realized this, he'd offered the name his father had given him: Galahad.

 _Prince Galahad of Benwick, son of King Ban, son of King Lancelot..._

Those names on the stone no one else could lift, covering the words on a slab in the midst of a graveyard hadn't meant anything, besides his name being shared with a former king, until he kept reading-

 _...father's kingdom overrun..._

 _...raised by a fairy woman alongside her court of maidens..._

 _...blade crafted from the stars..._

-this was _his_ past, he'd realized, as he continued, and confirmed by the very last line-

 _Sir Lancelot of the Lake, Knight of the Round Table._

As soon as he returned home, he asked Lady Nimue about the strange stone and why the slab said that his name was also Prince Galahad of Benwick.

"That is the name you were given by your father, King Ban," she had explained. "You see, I did not know your name until I started calling you Lancelot, and by that time, you'd learned the name I'd given you... and besides, your father's enemy was searching all of Albion making sure that the heir to the throne had been killed. If I had given you the name Galahad and sent you off into the world, Claudas might have sent men after you to bring him your head." A bead of light shimmered at the corner of the pink sorceress's eye, "Though I may not be your true mother, I worry about you just the same, Lancelot."

Crying women had always made Lancelot fidget- no, women who cried by themselves: the grieving widow finding out her husband had been killed in ambush; a mother lamenting over the loss of her children from a terrible fire...and soon enough after this moment in time, a girl crying over losing five years of her life because of spite- there was something unnerving about the sounds that came from them, the whimpering, blubbering, heaving- and the pained expressions that their faces twisted into- all of it made Lancelot want to spin on his heels and dash out of earshot from them. But hearing Lady Nimue cry like this... it would be abandoning her.

As he stepped closer to touch her arm or shoulder, she latched onto him- it had been ages since she had embraced him this way. Receiving the less intense embraces of his fellow knights made him uncomfortable as well, but for Nimue...his mother, he could allow it.

"Forgive me for this pain I've caused you," he mumbled into her bobbing shoulder. "I didn't mean to... to accuse you of anything..." She did not respond, and Lancelot swallowed- please stop crying, he pleaded- "You're the only mother I've ever known, Nimue- I'd be nothing without you." That was as close as he could manage to get to saying "I love you."

Her weeping seemed to ease into nervous laughter. "Is this my Lancelot? He seems unusually empathetic."

Lancelot sighed, two-parts relieved, one-part annoyed, as he nudged her away. Nimue wiped her cheeks as she laughed. "Only because you're upset," he huffed, trying to reign his emotions in by crossing his arms. He couldn't control his right ear from drooping.

"Oh, I doubt that," she breathed, eyes sparkling from the tears. "I know you better than anyone- I'm your mother."

Elaine stepped out from behind the screen, her dress fitting fairly well, except the bodice- much too loose, he could see her chemise underneath it- "This may work nicely," she mumbled to herself, then she noticed Lancelot staring- "may- _hm,_ may I have Galahad?"

He passed the giggly hedgehog to her, her blue eyes sparkling with joy when the tiny hands reached out to her. She smiled, nosing and murmuring to him before she slipped him into the dress. With one hand she tightened the fabric until Galahad was a bulge in an otherwise fitted dress. The tension in the fabric held him in place. Elaine walked to the foot of the bed and draped a bulky quilt around her shoulders- and there was no sign of the little bump.

"I hope...it's not too cold out there..." she mumbled, wrapping the blanket a little tighter around herself. "Wouldn't want to have him catch a cold."

Lancelot stood up and was about to offer his arm for support but Elaine had already left the room- keener to escape than he had thought. As he shut the door and hurried to her side, he considered that he would have probably lost his senses if he'd been stuck in the same room for more than a fortnight, thanks to his rearing in the lake.

"Is the weather fairer or poorer in Camelot this time of year?" she mumbled, her head slowly sinking into the quilt. Was she actually growing cold?

"It's more or less the same than here."

"Cold nights?"

"I wouldn't know- though Lamorak seems to complain during predawn training of it." One would think he were a frightened child with all the quaking he was doing.

"What about his sister, um..."

"Percival."

"Percival- she's a squire, right? Does she complain of the cold?"

"No- she has this power over fire, and I'm afraid even the king is exploiting that gift. The others huddle around her hands while she makes little flames in her palms." He rolled his eyes at the sight of Camelot's protectors revering the young cat's fire magic- if King Arthur and blameless Percival weren't in the crossfire, Lancelot would give the rest a nice jolt with his own brand of magic.

On the subject of magic- "Do you think he has magic in him?" Elaine's eyes shrank for a moment when she shot him a warning glance- poor timing to talk about Galahad in the hallway. He offered a head tilt and raised shoulders.

"Hard to say- but we'll see eventually," she relented with a sigh.

The sun's light greeted them as they entered the garden. An assortment of scents danced through the air: flowers of all kinds and colors, reminiscent of Lancelot's childhood home; shrubs and trees sporting full blooms; even a small, fruitful patch of herbs- all of these and a hint of the outlying forest mingled in the air. Elaine had stopped beside him, chest swelling- basking in the scents or the sun?

When she released her breath, she glanced around the garden, moving towards a bench nearly consumed by a bush. Tucked away- seemed suitable enough, he considered as he followed her. She fiddled with her dress underneath the quilt, probably to check on Galahad, make sure he hadn't suffocated- he sat on the opposite end of the bench, only a hand's length away. Getting too close tempted...feelings he wasn't ready to handle, and he just wanted to talk to Elaine without bringing up the past.

"My mother and I used to spend hours here," she sighed as a breeze from behind stirred the blooms on the shrub, a few petals dancing towards the ground. "She planted the flowers over there," she gestured to the sun-bathed cluster of colors in front of them. "There used to be only a few of them- seven or eight little blooms. Each year I thought they would die, but there were more of them than before... I almost thought that they'd be gone when I came home."

"Maybe your father looked after them," he hummed, wondering who was tending to the garden since the queen was dead and Elaine was indisposed.

"The rumor around the castle is that it's because of the Holy Grail," she laughed, turning away from Lancelot- he averted his eyes to catch a bee landing on one of the pink flowers on the bush. "Maybe that's why they think you're here."

The bee finished with the flower and took off towards the sky. A tiny cough noise came from her direction- he had caught a little at the edge of his vision- two large yellow eyes peeking from over Elaine's shoulder. Lancelot turned his head and Galahad gaped at him, a wide smile spreading across the baby's muzzle as one spread across his own. The little hedgehog cooed and laughed as he surveyed the new surroundings. All sorts of shapes and sounds out here, huh, Galahad?

"Do you think they'll overrun the entire garden in a view years?" he laughed, imagining this bench and even the trees covered in the rainbow of flowers in front of him. _Then_ it was plausible that fairies had toyed with the flowers when the queen had planted the first few. "Maybe the entire castle will be covered with them in ten years or so."

Elaine chuckled, bouncing Galahad as she turned back around. Birds chattered away... if this was Camelot, there would be a different kind of chattering, and a heap of other sounds with it. Was the castle undermanned due to lack of activity, or to keep the alleged secrets it held from reaching outside ears?

Galahad craned his head around, trying to figure out what he wanted to look at the most- "You're going to make yourself sick," Elaine warned with her own giggles. She put her hand behind his little head, nudging him to settle down. "I know- it's all exciting, and pretty," she admitted. "I think it's pretty, too." He complied, pressing himself against her chest, but kept his smiling yellow eyes on Lancelot- like tiny suns, they warmed his fur with their beams.

"Compliant little thing, isn't he," Lancelot observed, wondering how a newborn with little understanding was more obedient than a handful of Camelot's finest knights. Elaine nodded slowly, rubbing Galahad's back. The baby raised his head up and waved an arm at Lancelot- Elaine smiled and passed him to Lancelot- so very small, had he ever been this small? Galahad toyed with the hem of the knight's tunic, then moved to the patch of white fur, running his hands through as he giggled.

"I think he likes your fur," Elaine chuckled as the baby was trying to burrow into the fluff, rubbing up against it- maybe he was tired again? As he watched the little hedgehog settle down against him, the quilt wrapped around him. Galahad yawned as the tiny thumps of his heart beat against Lancelot's.

His ear flicked at the compliment, unsure how to respond. With a compliment in kind? Thank her? The time for replying passed by and he said nothing.

"Have you been on any exciting exploits lately?" she wondered- did she see his cheeks? Had they turned pink before he could catch himself?

"Ah- just the occasional battle or two," he admitted- "though, I imagine you'll be visited by the young Percival sometime- she's set on achieving the Holy Grail."

Elaine laughed, raising a hand to her mouth- "And the greatest knight in all the world- he allowed her to undertake such a task?"

"It keeps her busy." Truthfully, Gawain had already warned Percival that the Grail quest was a fool's errand- "I've been from one end of Albion to the other," Gawain had snorted, "-and I can say truthfully that I have never seen any signs that the Grail exists- be it in this country or any country in the world. And _if_ it did exist, I doubt it is still intact, or that _you'd_ be able to find it, Percival."

The young, female knight's tail had lashed back and forth like a whip. Her golden eyes narrowed- "Then I accept your challenge, Sir Gawain," she'd hissed.

"I couldn't just tell her that she couldn't prove him wrong," Lancelot sighed after retelling the story to Elaine. "The others scorn her enough already- I pray she'll find it, only to prove a point to her brother and Gawain."

Elaine hummed, nodding- "Noble cause, if these are the same Lamorak and Gawain you introduced me to."

"The same," he huffed, wondering if he should tell her how much the hawk wanted Lancelot to remember what Elaine looked like- with the most vile intent possible. "Surely you _saw_ her, Lancelot," he'd whined. Gawain and Arthur only teased to embarrass Lancelot, but Lamorak pleaded as if his life had no other meaning than pining for every maiden in Albion.

"King Arthur must believe she is worthy of being a squire under the Knights of Camelot," Elaine thought, "or he wouldn't have let her serve under them." He nodded, catching sight of Galahad, at peace, still latched onto strands of the white fur he lay upon. Would the little hedgehog ever be big enough to be a squire?

 _You must've been this small once, and look at you now,_ Lancelot thought, smiling.

* * *

Of course, Briselda had an earful for Elaine when she caught her with Lancelot- Lancelot still had Galahad against his chest, under the quilt when the irate handmaid wrenched her away with spontaneous nonsense about being sick- Elaine glanced back at Lancelot, eyes softening as she gave him a small smile- did she trust him enough to keep Galahad for a while? The sight mimicked one from nearly a year ago...

Lancelot had been leading his horse through Camelot, and riding the horse, Elaine, wrapped in his cape. Through their wake, townspeople stopped and stared at the mysterious maiden- dark-haired and fair-skinned, a foreign combination to this part of Albion. When Lancelot glanced back to make sure she was all right, she was sinking into the cape under the gaze, a hint of pink at her cheeks.

King Arthur and a handful of the Round Table were busy sparring near the castle, Lamorak the first to spot Lancelot- now most of the castle was outside to greet them, including a breathless King Pelles.

"Lancelot! Back from your secret quest I see!" Arthur exclaimed, leaning up on his sparring rod. The blue knight rubbed his nose, "Mayhaps you could introduce us to the lovely lady you've brought with you?"

Lancelot was already helping Elaine down, taking care she didn't dismount in a manner that would unveil herself to Camelot's Court.

"I'm...nervous," she breathed as he lowered her to the ground- because of her appearance?

"This won't be your formal introduction, if that's what's bothering you," he offered. "I'm certain King Arthur is going to give you a gracious welcome this evening."

"Is that my Elaine?" King Pelles' voice brightened her eyes, and she nodded, seeming to regain the energy to see her father again she showed when she'd first woken up. Lancelot returned the smile and led her to her father- who practically threw himself on her. "Elaine!"

The knight let them embrace and stepped aside to face his king and fellow knight. "That is Lady Elaine, daughter of King Pelles," he explained to Arthur and the gathered members of the Round Table.

"Well, this calls for a celebration," he laughed, then turned his head and raised his eyebrow, "wouldn't you agree, Guinevere?"

Lancelot fidgeted as the gracious queen joined Arthur's side, taking her husband's hand. "If it wasn't to welcome home the daughter of the visiting king, I would've made this the last banquet for a few months," she mused, their foreheads touching- Lancelot looked away, just as Gawain slung his arm over his shoulder.

"Lancelot! You scoundrel," he jested, making the black hedgehog's ear twitch, "why on earth is she wearing _your_ cape?"

"You're insinuating that I had anything to do with her lack of clothes," he growled, skin prickling at the echidna's proximity. Guinevere said something to Arthur and then moved towards King Pelles and Elaine. He needed to stop looking at Guinevere, lest someone noticed him doing so.

"So she _wasn't_ clothed before?" Lamorak closed in on Lancelot's left side, flanking him. Gawain put on a mock-surprised face.

"Enough," Lancelot wriggled out of their grasp, catching sight of Guinevere leading Elaine into the castle- probably to lend the young woman some clothes, the benevolent queen that she was.

Before disappearing, Elaine turned her head back and caught Lancelot's eyes. Her own softened and she smiled at him- as if she was thanking him again. Lancelot couldn't help but smile back.

He laughed a little, wondering what she'd do to sneak Galahad back before her midwife found out he was missing.


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't believe you'd be bold enough to accompany Sir Lancelot when you've just had a baby!" Briselda scolded once she'd dragged Elaine back to her room. "Did you lie to me just so you could go woo 'im?"

If sneaking out of her room into her own garden was bold, what would Briselda think of imitating someone else? Elaine wondered as she endured the berating. Her head might fall off of her shoulders- and it probably would, considering Galahad was still with Lancelot. She didn't doubt Lancelot could keep Galahad entertained- she just had to keep her raving midwife from knowing that he was gone.

"Can you imagine what would happen if 'e started cryin' while you were with 'im? What 'e'd _think_ of you?"

"Frightful first impression you've made of yourself, Briselda," Elaine considered, "we were in the middle of a conversation-" and all things considered, he seemed to be enjoying it, too. After what she'd did, Elaine was surprised he offered to just talk with her- "and even if they're 'sick,' tearing someone away without an explanation is awfully rude."

"You _scared me 'alf to death,_ milady! I was lookin' all over the castle for you!" she countered.

Elaine hummed and lowered her head- "Forgive me- Lancelot was outside my door, and it was all sort of unplanned."

Briselda's purple eyes flashed- "Wha- 'e _was?"_ The dust gray hedgehog took her arms, calmer. "But 'ow would 'e know this was your room? Oh, I should've known you wouldn't run off after Lancelot with Gala'ad... I'm sorry for snappin' at you."

"All that walking around's drained me," she moaned, leaning forward as if she were in pain- "I guess I was too busy enjoying Sir Lancelot's company to notice."

"Gala'ad too- bein' quiet all that time," Briselda cooed. "Did he feed?"

"Just before I joined Lancelot," she sighed, moving towards the changing screen- "uh, Briselda- I know I've worried you- but I'd like to rest more, before Galahad wakes up again..."

A frustrated frown crossed Briselda's muzzle before the changing screen obscured her. "All right- only if you promise you'll tell me all about you 'n Sir Lancelot when you wake up," her voice sighed as it moved towards the door.

"Promise," Elaine grumbled, pulling off the dress, sighing when the door shut. She only hovered around like a mother hen around her chicks- out of concern, possibly love, the love of a close friend, though. Elaine had worried about her father taking on a midwife- if people noticed that there was a midwife living in the castle, they'd naturally assume why- but Briselda had arrived as a handmaiden, "with a specialty in Elaine's sickness," as King Pelles had put it. Meeting Briselda was also quite a surprise to Elaine- she'd been expecting a matronly figure, rigid and distant, so when a young woman only a few years her senior introduced herself as the midwife, Elaine had stiffened.

"You?" she'd wondered- the bright-eyed girl in front of her couldn't possibly be the midwife.

"I know I don't look the role at all," Briselda had admitted, "but I'm very skilled- I've 'elped four mothers bring their little ones into the world, and your father's already told me about the situation- I promise I'll never breathe a word about this, even if you don't appoint me."

"I-I thought my father brought you here..." Elaine mumbled, hands clasping just in front of what would eventually be Galahad.

"'E did, but I always want the mother to be comfortable," the dust-colored hedgehog explained. "I mean- we'd be spendin' a lot of time together- and considerin' the circumstances, we'd either 'ave to be friends or be at each other's throats for a few months," she joked.

"Friends, then," Elaine laughed, wondering if the tickling in her stomach was her own giggles or her unborn baby's. Maybe the only friend she'd ever had- at least, one that wouldn't...

She sighed, throwing the dress over the top of the changing screen. One of her hands was touching her neck... Did Arondight's edge even touch her skin, or did it only touch the fur on it, hovering just close enough... she'd been searching for a mark for the first weeks afterward, but there was nothing noticeable- just a phantom scar.

She settled onto the bed, sighing as a part of her longed for something she couldn't hope to have- the cool touch reminded her of what Lancelot had said, that she'd fall asleep against his cool armor. After being boiled alive, she didn't doubt it- it took a few weeks for her to try getting into a tub again. Guinevere had been considerate enough to send for a pail of water when Elaine came to Camelot- it was sort of like how a bird bathes with a puddle of water, but more bearable than reliving the five-year nightmare- but it was hard to fathom Lancelot allowing her to stay that close to him, given his apparent cold reputation. So why had he been so nice to her?

Elaine sighed as she realized he would never trust her enough to tell her why... Ice grew inside her core as she rolled on her side. She felt the side of the bed for the item underneath the mattress, tugging the fabric out when she found it. Elaine wrapped herself in the red cloth, wishing it could take her back to before she decided to ruin her standing with Lancelot.

* * *

The fear that he would hurt the tiny baby had redoubled once Lancelot was alone with Galahad. The infant was still sleeping against his chest, but what if he woke up hungry? How could he possibly pacify Galahad enough before he could get him back to Elaine? Would Briselda still be with her?

Well, making his heart speed up probably wasn't going to help- Lancelot sat down on his bed and took a deep breath. The tiny heartbeats were still steady and slow, and Galahad was still clutching strands of his chest fur. Did he know that they shared those features- or was he still too young to understand?

He'd be old enough to ask about it soon enough, he sighed. It took a little effort, but Lancelot could recall asking Lady Nimue about his father, and why they didn't look alike-

"What did my father look like?" he'd tugged on the dress of a towering Nimue. "Did he look like me?" His cousins, Lionel and Bors, were wrestling each other far off, arguing who played the better King Bors, their father. They were both slightly older than Lancelot, and they were new to the Lake- they'd been living under the rule of their father's usurper until they defied him, and evidently, they had been lucky to be rescued by one of Nimue's servants when they were- any later, they would have been killed.

The enchantress smiled down at Lancelot, the sun catching her pink hair and turning it gold. "Your father?" she laughed, kneeling down to meet his eye level. "Maybe if _this"-_ she tousled the patch of fur on his chest, tickling him- "was bigger, you'd be his mirror image."

"Stop it, ma!" he pleaded through his giggles, and Nimue relented, chuckling. He held her arms, grinning at her- "Did he really look like me, with more white fur?"

Her smile grew bittersweet. "If you must know... you two have the same heart," she breathed, touching her forehead to his. "That's how I know whose son you are." Lancelot's chest grew warm and light, skin prickling as he beamed.

With Galahad snuggled against his chest fur, Lancelot wondered if the little hedgehog's chest would swell when Elaine told him about him- though, would she say who he was? Would he be happier if Galahad knew who he was, or if Galahad's father and Lancelot were separate in his mind? Lancelot never even asked Nimue his father's name, or even his cousins- just for the occasional facet of the unnamed man. But would Galahad follow that same path- could Elaine keep that from him?

Just as Lancelot was about to recall his own secret, Galahad began to stir. The infant rubbed his head along Lancelot's patch and blinked up at him. "I was wondering if you were ever going to wake," Lancelot tittered. Galahad hummed, chilling his blood until he cooed up at him. "Still remember me?" he wondered, making the tiny hedgehog giggle. He still curled up against his patch- maybe he really did like his fur?

"It's just you and I," Lancelot sighed as the big yellow eyes stared up at him. "Your mother's in trouble, as expected. It's almost her talent," he added, ear twitching- as the words left his mouth he wanted to pulled them back in, just because Galahad couldn't really understand what he was saying- "What I mean is, she ends up in difficult situations more so than other people," he corrected, "That's how we met."

The infant beamed up at him as if he was listening. "You know at this point, you're just talking to yourself," he shook his head. A giggle tickled a few of the hairs on his chest and Galahad's eyes glittered. Lancelot's ear drooped as he laughed. "I guess you don't mind if I talk out loud." He tapped the baby's tiny nose again, making him laugh before Galahad started wrestling his finger.

"You're a fiery little thing when you're awake, aren't you," he hummed as he tickled Galahad's chin, coaxing a squeak out of him. "I'll have to ask my mother if I was like this when I was your age...if I was, I've grown out of it."

Galahad's giggling quieted as he returned to staring up at Lancelot again- as much as he wanted to avoid talking about her, she was the only topic to come to mind... He sighed, offering a smile down at him. "You don't mind if I just skip to when I met her, do you?"

* * *

Lancelot scaled the stairs, one hand holding Arondight, the other reigning in the true foe of this quest- a cape. "A knight of such global acclaim should be distinguished!" Arthur had reasoned when Lancelot showed him it, asking if he should wear it, since he was just a knight, not nobility- although, by this time he'd seen his lineage on the tombstone- would it be appropriate? "I say you should wear it."

More like a weight to hinder him- it'd snagged on countless branches on the way here, tripped him up when he rounded corners. He should just tear the thing off and claim he lost it before he returned to Camelot, but before that, find whomever thought capes on knights was a tactical decision and strangle him with the cursed thing. Let capes stay with noblemen who needed them to feel important-

The top of the stairs levelled off and led to a door- this must be it- he charged at the door, the wood splintering and cracking as he collided with it, steam rushing out of the room as he burst through.

"Lady Elaine?" He coughed as the steam smothered him- he stepped forward, hesitating to release his grip on the cape in case this wasn't where King Pelles's daughter was imprisoned. A large cauldron began to appear in the center of the room as the steam thinned-

A less wary knight wouldn't have seen the dainty hand slowly sinking into the boiling water. Lancelot sprang forward as Arondight clattered to the floor, reaching into the scalding water to grab the pulsing wrist and pulling- Once the person's shoulders were out, he burned his forearms as he hoisted the dark-haired person out of the cauldron. She heated his armor- this must be Lady Elaine..

"Lady Elaine?" He asked, holding the limp girl up, then deciding to set her down on the floor- she was steaming like a boiled vegetable, how long had she been-

 _My daughter has been missing for five years._

Had she been cooking all this time, alone? Lancelot lifted his visor as he touched her burning neck- it was faint... was he too late...

Her body jerked as she spat out the water she must've swallowed when she started to drown- he turned her head to the side as she coughed it up- though not much water came up... had she lost consciousness just before he entered?

"Lady Elaine?" he asked again, but she didn't respond. The sweltering room wasn't going to help with the heat emanating from her.

Forgetting how much he'd cursed it, he tore the cape off of his shoulders and covered Elaine before picking her and Arondight up and carrying them out of the keep.


	7. Chapter 7

"Remember, Percival-" Sir Gawain reminded as they rode closer to Corbenic's edge, "We're here for Lancelot. We'll talk some sense into him, _then_ you can carry on with your Grail quest."

"If I recall correctly," the young cat huffed, her tail lashing behind her as she straightened her back, _"you_ were the one who mentioned the rumors of Corbenic and the Holy Grail, Sir Gawain."

The echidna snorted as the forest began to give way to the farmer's fields. Corbenic may not have knights, but they certainly had commodities- a cloud of sheep moved along the far end of Corbenic, and a man was tending to his fields. Corbenic's prized source of wealth was its fishermen and their hauls- less than a day's ride to the ocean for fresh fish. King Pelles's father was often called "the Fisher King" due to his favorite activity. Gawain hoped the gracious king would grant them some cured fish when they returned to Camelot.

"It's very unlike Sir Lancelot to charge through such a long path," Percival hummed, before Corbenic's crops and livestock met her eyes.

"Oh, I wouldn't put it past him-" indeed, too many a steed had collapsed dead from Lancelot's grueling riding style. "Especially if Lady Elaine is involved."

When Percival managed to shake herself from the view of the castle town. "But why would he make a two day journey overnight for Corbenic?"

"Because he's in love, and he's too proud to show it." Percival coughed, earning a pair of narrow eyes- "You have a different opinion, _Percival?"_

"No matter how proud Lancelot is, I don't think he would be pleased at any lady's illness," the squire hummed, examining the sky. "And even so, when Lady Elaine left, she seemed upset."

"Probably because he didn't join us in sending her off that day," he huffed as Corbenic's castle grew closer and larger, even though Percival was right; even if Lancelot was embarrassed to show concern, would the news of her being ill make him happy?

"Suppose King Pelles wishes Lancelot to marry his daughter... whose knight would he be then?" Percival considered, the question chilling Gawain's skin.

"Even more reason to return to Camelot as soon as we can- as if your deranged quest wasn't enough."

* * *

After she'd calmed down from waking up out of her boiling prison, Lady Elaine returned to making up for five years of slumber. Lancelot kept her on the edge of his vision as he resigned himself to staying up; at the very least, this area held no fear of an ambush from a battle-ready force- the most dangerous foe at this point would be a bear, if they were fond of this part of the woods and considered Lancelot a threat. The knight considered Arondight, already clean of the quest, checking again that she hadn't lost her sharp edge despite being made not to, and imagined her in the sky, as several stars, twinkling high above him. On the first few nights after he'd been given Arondight, he'd tilted the blade, believing that the stars still twinkled in the sword, and they just needed to see their fellow stars in the sky to shine again.

Just as he set the sword down, Elaine sat up, gasping and crying out. The sudden movement almost uncovered her.

"Elaine?" Lancelot called out, trying to see if she was still asleep, foregoing titles. He slowly moved to face her-

"He-help..." she whined, shaking. "Help me..." Her eyes were dull and unfocused- voice detached... "I can't get out-"

She's dreaming- Lancelot made his way over to her, keeping his voice low. "You're out of the bath..." he sat next to her, reaching for one of her clenched, shaking hands. As soon as he took hers, her whimpering faded, and whatever panicked strength held her upright wavered- she sunk into herself before he steadied her with his free arm-

Elaine fell against his armor, sighing- a few moments passed before he realized the armor was cold compared to her body heat. The intensity of the heat had faded, but still too hot for travel... Her heartbeat traveled through the chestplate, but she'd stunned him already. Despite his abilities, he felt vulnerable.

This hadn't been the first time he had to rescue someone, but somehow _this_ quest unnerved him- more than rescuing the Queen-

He cursed himself for even thinking about Guinevere- his hidden weakness. Why on earth did _she_ haunt him so much- why did he imagine she was the one to greet him when he returned- to berate him for chasing after dragons- _no!_ She belonged to Arthur as much as Camelot and Caliburn did. Care to usurp the throne, Lancelot, as your own father had been?

Elaine groaned, shuddering, though he doubted from the cold- she shifted her head, sighing. Perhaps she'd dreamt she was back in the back in the bath, only to find cold armor...

No one had ever needed him like this. When Percival had started to lose courage to continue with her training, Arthur comforted her- when the faction of knights Lancelot was a part of had been cornered and worn down, Bors, Lancelot's cousin, rallied them to action. Every member of the Round Table held stories of their charismatic abilities... save for Lancelot.

Another groan from Elaine, "..too... hot..." Still dreaming, or...

"It's all right... you're safe now," Lancelot managed, hoping it was enough-

"L...Lancelot?" she breathed. "Can... can you keep...talking?" His ear flicked as he glanced down. "Just-just so I know... know you're still there..."

"Ah... all right..." Lancelot answered- shifting his weight to sit on the ground while trying to figure out what to talk about... "Well... when you're well enough, we'll go to Camelot... have you ever been there before?" A negative groan as she tried to shake her head. "It's more crowded than Corbenic, but everyone's amiable. I'm not from there, originally..."

As he described his home to the feverish girl, her breathing steadied again, though Lancelot kept going, in case she needed a way to know her dreams were just dreams, that she didn't need to try to escape. Maybe she didn't just seek relief from the heat of her own body, but she needed to know someone else was with her, too.

* * *

Mirroring his mother in the story, Galahad dozed peacefully against Lancelot's chest. At least this wasn't yesterday, when he was still worn out from riding out here, or he wouldn't have lasted long enough to pacify him. Lancelot gently stroked the sleeping infant's forehead, careful not to wake the tiny hedgehog.

"I'd better take you back to your mother," he whispered, wrapping Galahad up in the quilt- for warmth and concealment. If Briselda was still with Elaine, he could just claim he was returning the quilt to her. There, nice and snug- Lancelot tugged a fold of the quilt to cover Galahad's face before he left his room.

He was turning into the last hallway when a servant startled him. "Ah- Sir Lancelot- have you heard? Sir Gawain and Percival have arrived in Corbenic."

Lancelot prayed that Galahad couldn't hear the loud thud of his heartbeat- well, of course King Arthur would have sent someone after him, though Gawain and Percival had been wise enough to keep a steady pace instead of charging through a two-day journey. Did Arthur ask Percival to accompany Gawain, or had it been the other way around?

"I see... but I have to return Lady Elaine's quilt," he managed, after testing his words.

The servant blinked, "How is the Lady Elaine? There're rumors she was in the garden this afternoon."

"She seemed well... but her handmaiden seemed upset that she was out at all- I wasn't able to give back the quilt before."

"I believe King Pelles will be showing them the Grail mural- are you familiar with it?" Lancelot nodded and the servant disappeared down the hall. Did King Pelles always show visiting knights the Grail mural?

Once he was sure the hallway was empty again, he knocked on Elaine's door- trying to be loud enough for Elaine to hear it, but not wanting to wake up Galahad."Elaine? Are you awake?"

The door creaked open just enough for Lancelot to see that Elaine had changed out of her dress. Her brow pinched together before she realized Galahad was hidden in the quilt. "Is something wrong?" she whispered. He blinked before she elaborated, "You seem surprised."

"Oh- Gawain and Percival are here, evidently." He handed over Galahad to her, "I was boring him, anyway."

Elaine chuckled, cradling the bundle. _"Boring_ him? I don't think that's possible for you." A flash of her smile tickled him- but murmurs creeping up the halls stifled that. Elaine shrank back into her room like a wary doe. "Better join your fellow knights, Sir Lancelot."

"I hope I'll be able to see both of you before I leave," he admitted, a faint pink growing on her cheeks. Before the door obscured her completely, Lancelot caught a gentle smile on her lips.

"I'm certain we will," she whispered before she closed the door.

* * *

"Lancelot!" Gawain greeted as the dark hedgehog entered the room. Percival and King Pelles were closer to the muraled wall while the echidna stood apart. "I thought you'd hurt yourself after that ride you took to get here," he laughed, then with a jester's grin, "I hope we haven't interrupted anything between you and the Lady Elaine." While King Pelles chuckled alongside Gawain, Percival bowed her head. Lancelot huffed at the comment while he crossed the room to join them.

"I thought I saw you both in the garden this afternoon," the king remarked, only widening Gawain's smile, in turn, shortening Lancelot's patience with him.

"So how is your fair Lady Elaine? Don't tell me she was just _love_ sick all this time."

"You'd do well not to insult our host's daughter, Gawain," the hedgehog managed, crossing his arms. Meek Percival nodded out of sight of the echidna- she just needed courage to assert herself, assurance that speaking up was not the same as being disrespectful. When they returned to Camelot, Lancelot would discuss solving this with Arthur and Bors.

"How was your trip, Percival?" he offered to the squire. "I hope watching Gawain hasn't dissuaded you from joining our ranks." The purple cat smiled for a moment, then coughed before replying; at least she was past stumbling over her thoughts.

"Fine- Corbenic is quite the sight to behold."

"It is when it isn't being terrorized by a dragon," Lancelot agreed. As she answered, Gawain asked King Pelles for some privacy with his fellow knights- the king acquiesced, saying he had some other business to attend to as well.

As soon as the three knights were alone, Gawain huffed. "Have plans to pledge your loyalty to Corbenic, Lancelot?"

Lancelot's ear flicked. "Of all the things that you've ever said, _that's_ the most _asinine."_ How many battles had he won for Camelot- and though they didn't know, he could've easily claimed his birthright after winning back Benwick from Claudas, as Bors could have claimed Gaul. How could Gawain even _think_ that he would abandon his hard-earned position as commander of the knights for Corbenic? "Did you fall on your head before you arrived?"

Percival flocked to the Grail mural, ears tilting down. If Arthur had wanted Percival to accompany Gawain to Corbenic to prevent them from coming back injured and combative, he should've just come instead. Arguing was so much harder when you had to be both mediator and participant.

"Well at least I don't _act_ asinine," Gawain laughed, the hollow sound bitter in Lancelot's ears, "-dashing off full speed to another king's castle, without even saying where you're going or when you plan to come back... almost as if you were offered something worthwhile-like a _lady's hand."_

"So I betray my friend, fellow knight and king for a woman I've only known for a few weeks," the hedgehog puffed. Percival shot Gawain a righteous smirk before returning to the mural wall, like an archer returning to cover after firing a shot. "With no regards to my armor or belongings in Camelot."

Gawain shifted his weight as he looked to the floor. "Well...you still ran off without saying anything..." he grumbled, "which is poor form for the commander of the knights, if you ask me."

"I'm surprised you didn't take the opportunity to take my place, then." Lancelot had expected whenever he returned to Camelot to have Arthur and Gawain arguing about whether or not Arthur had been right to put the young knight in the position- Gawain was older than Lancelot by a few years, and had the nepotic advantage of being Arthur's nephew.

"It crossed my mind, yes," the echidna hummed- "but King Arthur told me to come and pry you away from Lady Elaine"- Lancelot's ear flicked at the comment, "then _Percival_ wanted to come along..." he shrugged, then narrowed his eyes as he stared at Percival, sighing deeply. "You have no idea how much she talks about that silly cup."

"I've heard different stories about the Grail." Indeed, depending on where you were in the world, the 'Sangreal' was a chalice, a stone, a dish- sometimes, it was merely a great source of magical power. The mural they stood in front of now only showed the relic as ball of light- as a symbol of its sanctity. The only person who knew anything of the Grail's form was the Grail Maiden.

Percival placed a hand on the figure of the Grail Maiden in the mural, the angelic figure bestowing the radiant object to the worthy knight. Had King Pelles explained it to Percival as he had with Lancelot?

"This woman... who do you suppose she is?" the young squire hummed as she stared at the Grail Maiden. "Do you think she's hiding somewhere, waiting to be found?"

Gawain snuffed, "A sad and lonely existence, I would say. Another reason I don't buy the existence of the Grail itself."

"Perhaps she accepted the role willingly," Lancelot offered. "Perhaps she hides in plain sight, and only when the worthy knight fulfills the tasks will she reveal her role in the quest."

"I would hope so," the echidna nodded, "otherwise I'd have to make Percival pursue the Grail just to end that maiden's suffering." The cat lowered her head, a tiny smile peeking from the side of her face. Gawain straightened up and puffed- "But don't think that you can go running off on your own yet- you're still a squire."

Percival chuckled,"Yes, Sir Gawain."


	8. Chapter 8

"Sounds like tomorrow's dinner is goin' to be fish," Briselda announced as she brought Elaine dinner. Galahad was toying with some of her black hair, gurgling at how the light danced on each strand as he moved it around. Briselda set the food down on the bed before continuing, "'Is Majesty wants to treat the knights to Corbenic's specialty."

"Sir Gawain probably suggested it," Elaine laughed, trying to wean Galahad off her hair so she could eat- he was an adorable handful, and though he couldn't really comprehend having such a hold on her, Elaine struggled to say no to the little silver Lancelot in her arms. "Come on, will you let me have dinner, Galahad?" she pleaded, nosing him. Galahad squeaked, pressing his face against her before she managed to hand him off to Briselda.

"Sir Gawain's the echidna, right? 'E's much louder than I thought 'e would be," she admitted as she bounced Galahad.

Elaine swallowed the mouthful she was chewing before asking, "You met Sir Gawain?"

Briselda's hair swayed as she shook her head. "I saw them walkin' around with the king when I went to get you dinner- but you've met all of them before, 'aven't you?" Elaine prepared herself for inevitably telling Briselda everything about every person she'd met in Camelot, and nodded. "You 'ave to tell me- especially about that Percival!"

"Certainly you could just ask them yourself," Elaine tried, but continued to think of when she first met the two knights, shaking away the dust and impurities the memory had collected.

"They've more important things to worry about- and you're right 'ere, aren't you?"

"People tend to change over time, you understand," she sighed, trying to finish her dinner before reciting the memories she had of Camelot's court. "They've probably gone on more marvelous adventures in the past year..."

* * *

Queen Guinevere gifted Elaine with dresses she had outgrown to wear until she returned home, most of them blue and purple. "Ah, are you sure you want me to take these?" Elaine mumbled, feeling the fabric of one of the richly colored dresses, embroidered with gold embellishments.

"They'd suit you more than they would me," the queen smiled- without bared teeth, a sinister contour- a genuine smile with pure intentions. That was how smiles were supposed to look like, Elaine reminded herself, picturing her mother's smile rather than the sneer of le Fay. "Get dressed- I imagine everyone wants to give you a warm welcome."

"Everyone?" Elaine echoed, feeling the thousands of eyes that had stared at her when she came through Camelot. She wouldn't have to meet _everyone_ in Camelot, right? She didn't want to be alone again, but the other extreme seemed just as frightening... even though the people of Camelot seemed friendly enough, she still didn't want to fumble about...

"They're quite courteous- and I'm sure Lancelot will keep them in line." Guinevere picked a dress and held it up to Elaine, humming- "I hope he wasn't too brusque- Sir Lancelot tends to keep to himself."

The memory of his smile surfaced, conflicting the image the queen's words had formed. Given her last interaction had been with Morgan le Fay, perhaps Lancelot had seemed caring and friendly in comparison... No, even though it had been awhile since she'd seen a real smile, Lancelot's had been sincere, nothing forced or cold about it... "I don't... really remember what happened," she mislead... "I was very feverish." When Guinevere asked why, Elaine mustered the courage to recount her prison to her as she got dressed.

"Perhaps you'd like to rest instead of meeting all our knights," Guinevere considered after taking in the tale. Elaine placed a hand on the window, looking out at the bustling anthill that was Camelot- hazy memories of Corbenic never matched the liveliness outside. Her fingers trembled against the glass as her stomach twisted with the two options: flounder about in front of Camelot's court, or be trapped in a room again- even though it would only be until she felt brave enough to mingle with other people, _trapped_ leapt in her mind over and over again.

"Just wait here for a moment, I'll be back soon," the queen said, exiting the room, door shutting. Elaine hurried back to the door and opened it just to make sure it wasn't locked behind Guinevere's exit... Perhaps if she thought like this, she shouldn't meet the others until she could convince herself that she was free. She sat down, taking deep breaths as she calmed herself down.

Minutes passed before the door opened fully behind Elaine, but instead of Guinevere, it was Lancelot. Maybe it was because his eyes were red, that's why her heart kept skipping when he looked at her. Yes, that's probably it...

"Did Queen Guinevere send you?" she wondered, after stumbling over saying "hello."

His eyes looked to the floor, "I was leaving the others when she stopped me," he said as if speaking to himself. He looked back up -! No, it couldn't just be his eye color that was skipping her heart- "They're being rather disorderly and I doubt that you'd want to meet them in that state... but you'd also object to staying in the castle."

"Ah- Queen Guinevere must be a very keen woman, if she managed to pick that up," she jittered, half to herself.

His ear flicked. "No, Her Majesty only mentioned to me that you seemed anxious at meeting everyone." Maybe... maybe it was because the eyes were too kind to be that predator-like red...

"Perhaps you'd like to walk around Camelot with me," Lancelot offered, with a faint smile on his lips- no hint of the brusqueness Guinevere had mentioned. Elaine's cheeks trembled with excitement as she joined his side. The castle's vibrant splendor outdone the dusty memories of Corbenic- and the people within it exuded the same light- the jumbled faces of the few servants at Corbenic seemed unapproachable when she forced herself to remember them...

They walked out of the castle and walked past the courtyard Lancelot had brought her to earlier- training grounds, she realized as a hedgehog and jackal fought with wooden rods as if they were blades. Lancelot made a _hmpf_ sound as he noticed them.

"You call that a swing?" the jackal laughed at the hedgehog's blocked attack. As he taunted, his opponent swiftly unbalanced him with a sweeping kick-

"I call it a diversion," the hedgehog puffed, before helping the defeated jackal up. "Another go?" They assumed a stance a few paces away from each other and began fighting again. Their movements were rhythmic and fluid, even when they had to make quick motions to avoid the other's attacks... like watching a chaotic dance.

"Those are my cousins," Lancelot noted- "Lionel and Bors." Elaine studied the fighters' features- the hedgehog had bright red eyes and quills like Lancelot- only three quills instead of Lancelot's six. The jackal had dark fur like his cousin, and as she glanced back at Lancelot, noted their white chest fur. "We all came to Camelot together."

"To be knights?" she wondered, following the motions of the two fighters.

"Bors and Lionel had their motivations to become knights," he admitted. "I'll let them decide to tell you what those were."

Elaine noticed the scar on Bors's right blue eye. Her heart quickened- "Oh... I see," she mumbled. "And what were your motivations?"

His eyes rested on hers as the corner of his mouth twitched. "Well... that's-" he looked away and a flash of heated emotion crossed his eyes- she followed his stare- Bors and Lionel had stopped sparring and were whispering to each other as they took turns glancing at Elaine and Lancelot.

"And what exactly are you laughing about?" Lancelot barked across the field. "A fine example you're making of Camelot's knights," he huffed as they grinned back at him.

"Cousin, you were smiling," Bors called as they made their way towards them.

"I saw red on his face," Lionel chuckled beside him, before bowing his blue-gray head at Elaine- she thought perhaps someone was behind her at first. "You must be the Lady Elaine."

As Bors bowed next to his brother, Elaine caught them flashing a grin at each other before standing back up. "It is an honor to meet you. Please forgive us if you thought we were laughing at you."

"Were you watching us spar?"

She nodded- "Corbenic doesn't boast knights- if I'm not mistaken," she added once she remembered how long it had been since she'd been in Corbenic. "You both are very skilled."

"Have you met with the other knights, my lady?" Lionel wondered. "I thought Her Majesty was bringing you to them."

"Their behavior said they weren't ready to meet Lady Elaine," Lancelot huffed.

Bors smiled at his cousin, "You're unusually considerate today, cousin."

The black hedgehog's eyes narrowed at the jackal. "Respectfully, I doubt after a long journey she would be able to withstand their company as it is."

"So you brought her out here instead," Lionel noted.

"Perhaps he wants to show off," Bors chuckled. Lancelot opened his mouth but Bors continued, directed at Elaine. "Have you had the chance to see the great Sir Lancelot fight, Lady Elaine?"

The great Sir Lancelot? She shook her head, the brothers exchanging another grin. Bors huffed as Lancelot had done earlier, possibly mocking him, "Cousin, what poor form- surely you know if you don't fight for a lady such as Elaine, any and every knight will jump at the opportunity to become her champion."

"Including Sir Lamorak," Lionel added, "who will then refuse to leave her side until she leaves Camelot."

"A lady only requires a champion when someone means her harm or offends her honor," Lancelot puffed. Though being the lady fought over turned her cheeks pink, the banter between the three was charming. Was this what it was like to have siblings?

"You realize Sir Lamorak will sully Lady Elaine's impression of _your_ knights-"

"And no doubt he will offend her honor by pestering her with unwarranted advances."

"So, in the interest of the future of Elaine's honor," Bors declared, bowing to her again, "I will gladly lend my skills to fend off any who would mean to do ill to this fair young lady." Elaine tittered at the charming smile the jackal offered.

"You fell for an easily avoided ploy that would have cost you your life in battle," Lancelot countered.

"If you have objections to it, then we shall settle this with our blades." Lionel offered his sparring rod to his cousin as Bors elaborated, "The victor will have the honor of becoming Lady Elaine's champion while she stays in Camelot."

Lancelot reigned in his expression with a deep breath, but his eyes were still burning. "As long as the lady has no objections to this."

She beamed at the dark hedgehog, hoping that he'd be able to take out his frustrations with his two cousins in battle. "Oh, not at all. I would enjoy to see you fight, Sir Lancelot."

His mouth twitched in a smile before he accepted Lionel's rod and walked towards the sparring area. Lionel escorted Elaine to a closer but still safe area to watch them.

"What did Sir Bors mean by _his_ knights?" she wondered before the two took their places.

"He didn't mention it to you?" Lionel hummed before he answered. "King Arthur appointed Lancelot as the commander of the knights of the Round Table."

Her heart skipped as she stared back towards Lancelot- he was holding the rod differently than Bors, "But- Sir Lancelot's around my age, isn't he?" If she had remembered how old she'd been when she was kidnapped, she was eighteen years old- commanders were older, battle-experienced men- at least, she thought they'd be; Corbenic had no formal military might.

"Our king is very... free-spirited, when it comes to decorum." Bors flourished his rod- "that means he's ready," Lionel explained before continuing his original conversation, "Which is why he formed the Round Table- he would rather serve his kingdom as a knight than a king, and see everyone as equals. His love for adventure can cloud his judgement when it comes to making tactical decisions- not that he is a poor king or leader, he'd just rather be a knight like anyone else."

"So he wanted someone who could serve as a leader while he went off on adventures." Lancelot was still stretching, Bors's tail lashing about.

"Lancelot was up against Sirs Gawain and Lamorak as commander- the king ruled out Lamorak immediately, which you'll soon find apparent when you meet him, but he was torn between choosing Lancelot, his friend, and Sir Gawain, his nephew.

"Lancelot knew that it wouldn't necessarily be camaraderie that would sway Arthur's decision, so he sought to prove himself with his skills as a knight." After an agitated taunt from Bors, Lancelot finished up and flourished his rod. Soon after he did this, his cousin charged toward him- Lancelot side-stepped and tripped him, sending the jackal tumbling, but he managed to stop himself and recover to block a swing from Lancelot. Bors leapt forward to knock him back so he could gain back some ground for a counterattack. Lancelot blocked the attack, their rods grinding against each other's might- Elaine's heart swelled as Bors appeared to be gaining the upper hand-

Lancelot growled and ducked to the side, unbalancing Bors enough to spin and strike his back, knocking the jackal down and disarming him. She let the held breath escape her mouth as Bors stood up and offered his hand to his cousin as Lionel chuckled. Bors said something to Lancelot that made him flinch for a moment before Lancelot turned to Elaine, that genuine smile returning for a moment before whistling cut through the air and snapped the four's attention to the source.

"Was that a smile, Lancelot?" A hedgehog similar to Lionel trotted over- sporting vibrant blue fur and gleaming green eyes- joined by a young cat. When the knights bowed to him, Elaine realized that this was King Arthur- the spirited, young opposite of her composed, aging father."You should show it off more, maybe you wouldn't seem so cold." His eyes lit up when he noticed Elaine with Lionel. "Were they flaunting their skills for you?"

"Bors challenged Lancelot to a duel," she replied, cheeks beginning to ache from smiling. "It was exciting to watch."

"We were practicing when Lady Elaine and Lancelot came- she hadn't seen Lancelot fight," Lionel explained, also failing to mention the prize of the duel. "Perhaps we could show Percival how to avoid being unbalanced in combat, since Bors has lost twice by that trick."

The jackal snuffed at his brother's grin but smiled, "I'm sure my brother would leap at the chance to knock me down for her benefit"- her benefit? Elaine glanced at the cat again- oh! Percival was not a young man as _her_ clothes said. Was she training to be a knight alongside the Round Table? "But I should warn you- it's much harder to unbalance an enemy wearing greaves."

"Maybe for some knights," the king grinned, turning to the quiet cat. "Elaine, this is Percival, our newest member to the table." The meek cat bowed her head. "We're trying to get her accustomed to combat before desperation calls her to arms."

"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Elaine," Percival mewed, smiling. "I hope you are enjoying Camelot."

"Camelot is marvelous," Elaine beamed, her cheeks splitting from grinning so much. "At least, what I've seen."

"At least we've made a great first impression," Arthur chuckled, "though Lancelot was worried you'd be frightened off by our more excitable members." The dark hedgehog's ear flicked as he went on, "He frowns a lot but he's rather compassionate."

"Oh, Lancelot is duty-bound to keep them in line," Bors smirked, sending a flash of red across Lancelot's face. "He is their commander, after all." The dark hedgehog exhaled the blush, composing himself before Arthur could notice.

"Perhaps-" Percival coughed, ducking her head, but all eyes were on her- though Lancelot and Arthur's heads bobbed as if to encourage her to continue. She regained her voice, "Perhaps Sirs Gawain and Lamorak want you to retell your adventure, Sir Lancelot. You three seem to enjoy sharing your exploits to one another."

"Oh, yes, considering King Pelles didn't tell us where he sent you off to or what he wanted to you to accomplish," Arthur chuckled, rubbing his nose. "Lancelot, don't tell me you were overwhelmed with Lady Elaine's beauty that you forgot what happened?"

Elaine blushed at the compliment, though she didn't think after being boiled for five years that she still was beautiful. "Perhaps he hasn't recounted it because I'm here in Camelot," she offered, trying to alleviate the pressure on her rescuer. "And well... it has been five years since I've been in the company of others."

They blinked- Lionel buzzed, "You've been alone for five years?"

Her skin crawled as the heat haunted her, "Yes... it seemed shorter to me... due to the circumstances of my imprisonment." As she was looking at the ground, she didn't notice Lancelot had joined her side until he spoke.

"You don't have to recall it now," he assured, though his presence comforted her enough for her to continue. She explained that she had been in her mother's garden when Morgan le Fay abducted her- then dropped into a boiling cauldron that she could not escape. The knights sombered as she went on; her last memory of the bath was succumbing to its heat just as Lancelot burst through the door.

"I had a very high fever, so I can't say with certainty if there were other perils that threatened us... but I was very nervous to meet everyone at once since it has been far too long that I've socialized with others," Elaine concluded her tale. "I didn't mean any offense to you or the knights by not meeting you- it was only because I felt so... displaced."

The four knights remained silent until Bors spoke up, "That feeling will pass, Lady Elaine." He offered a kind smile as he explained, "It will take time to recover from what you've endured- but you will recover."

"And be stronger for it," Lionel added- their conviction implied experience, perhaps the same experience that caused Bors's scar.

"Should my brother, Lamorak, cause you any discomfort, let me know straight away," Percival puffed, golden eyes narrowing and tail lashing about. "I shall make sure he doesn't do so again."

"Please, don't be afraid to excuse yourself if you feel unwell," King Arthur assured. "Your feelings mean more to us than silly etiquette."

Lionel laughed, "That's your creed, isn't it, Sir Arthur?"

The young king puffed his chest, "And Camelot is better for it! If people just looked past those things and treated everyone as we treat them here, the whole world would be a happier place."

"What he's saying is, should you want, you could join our ranks as well, Lady Elaine," Bors chuckled.

"I doubt my father would allow that, even if it were my wish," she laughed. "Though it is a noble profession... Percival, you'll certainly become a fine knight under them."

The cat blushed, "Thank you, Lady Elaine. I'll try my best to live up to your expectations."

"You'll live up to mine once you're a knight, Percival," Lancelot assured, making the cat redden and duck her head more. Bors and Lionel herded the squire towards the sparring area, explaining about how keeping balance was integral to fighting, since being knocked down gave your opponent the upperhand... Arthur hummed as he glanced at Lancelot and Elaine.

"You two should get going if you want to see Camelot before it gets dark," he suggested before elbowing Lancelot and joining the others. The dark hedgehog huffed, ear flicking before turning toward Elaine.

"Shall we?"

* * *

 **Yikes! Another long chapter! Don't worry, school's almost out and I'll be able to upload more frequently.**


	9. Chapter 9

Atop of the castle, the sky turned orange and indigo, dotted with stars, and below in the town lanterns began dotting the windows and streets of Camelot. The sun began sinking into the trees beyond. The winds began to pick up and chill Elaine- even though she shivered, she still smiled beside Lancelot, staring towards the darkening east. The castle sat high enough to view the eastern sea, now blended into the night sky.

"I'm envious of you, if this is what your evenings are like," she hummed, leaning against the balcony rail. "You've got such a wonderful view."

"I don't always get to enjoy it," he sighed, "but it is beautiful, when the weather's fair." Moving lights in the town bobbed and paused, as if their bearers were stopping to take in the sky's beauty.

"Yes, being the commander of a highly regarded group of knights certainly sounds demanding," she tittered. "I'm surprised you offered to show me around Camelot."

He blinked, "Why wouldn't I?"

She considered all the remarks about Lancelot's cold nature towards others, wondering if he knew how he appeared to others, or if he knew he was treating her differently... "Well... I just thought that you'd rather train with the others, or take on a new task than escort me."

The dark hedgehog looked at the stars above him before he replied, "Do you remember when I was telling you about Camelot, that I mentioned I wasn't from here?"

He stared back towards the east again, as if looking for something beyond the night blue horizon. "I didn't grow up in a town... for most of my life I only knew a few close people. Bors and Lionel, though their childhood was riddled with hardships, knew what it was like to encounter strangers and crowds... So when we set off to become knights and came to Camelot, they weren't afraid to walk among the townspeople and talk to strangers- but for me, I couldn't even muster the courage to step through the gates behind them."

Elaine peered at the far end of Camelot- imagining a lone figure standing beyond the castle gates as he went on. "Camelot is enormous... and crowded... I was less afraid charging into a dragon's den than walking through those gates...

"And you'd... gone through hell for five years, alone," he breathed, shaking his head. "And you were nearly swarmed coming in... I thought... well...-"

"Oy, Lancelot-" a loud call echoed from behind them, startling a yelp out of Elaine- "you realize we can't eat until you come down, right?" An echidna stood in the doorway as Lancelot growled- was it annoyance at his presence or his interruption?

"As if _you_ would wait for me all the same," the hedgehog bristled- voice dripping with ire- based on what he had started to say, and the type of person the others had made him out to be... the heat radiating off of him eerily resembled the intensity of the bath's.

 _"Oh,_ I see!" the echidna chuckled, before glancing at Elaine. "Though, wouldn't you think the lady would like to have something to eat, Lancelot, instead of freezing up here?" He walked over, bowing his head- "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Sir Gawain."

Elaine tried to keep her tone level as she returned his introduction- did he not realize they were having a conversation before he called out to them? And she doubted that King Arthur would withhold the court from eating due to their absence, unless her father wanted to see her. Even still... "Please don't wait for us- we'll come in once the sun's set."

Gawain snuffed, beginning to turn around. "It's warmer in the castle," he urged.

"And the food grows colder with every minute you waste arguing," Lancelot growled- he had returned to watching the sky change colors.

The echidna's brow furrowed at the remark. "Even more reason the lady should come inside and enjoy it while it's hot than stay out here with an even colder knight." The dark hedgehog's frame began to shake with indignation-

Gawain cocked his head to the side, as if his attention was caught by something. He replied to an unheard command, then bowed to Elaine before hurrying back inside. Lancelot's ear flicked at the strange reaction- but before he could comment, Elaine teetered and nearly collapsed. His quick reflexes caught her- even though she felt faint, her skin prickled.

"Are you all right?" he asked- a panicked tint to his eyes replacing the blood red shade.

"I- y-yes," she stammered, feeling a different heat pulse through her than that of rage. She tittered, a sheepish grin twisting on her lips, "I'd worry about Sir Gawain though..."

Lancelot helped her to stand up, puffing, "A given when you live in Camelot. Pay him no mind."

"What I mean is- he's just run off thinking he's meeting King Arthur out in the sparring area-" he glanced back at where Gawain had been, "I think he might have just thought there was a servant there."

A laugh escaped Lancelot- he stifled it, but the smile remained, "Was that your doing, then?"

Elaine beamed- "I.. I was rather impulsive- I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Lancelot chuckled, "Then maybe we should join the others, some food will help alleviate that." Though she felt steadier than before, being supported by Lancelot felt... safe. Well, wasn't that his role as her champion? she mused, blushing as they made their way to the dining hall.

The memory turned bittersweet like a poisonous herb. Elaine wished she'd never seen Lancelot's gaze at Queen Guinevere the night after- or that she hadn't acted on her wish to give him what he wanted, even for just one night... there'd been so much burning hate in his eyes, she was convinced he was going to kill her.

And yet... he'd thrown his cherished sword across the room instead of slicing her throat open. She wanted to ask why, but feared the answer would crush her as much as those eyes had...

Watching Galahad stretch and yawn next to her on the bed, Elaine brightened as she carefully cradled the adorable silver infant. He opened his drowsy yellow eyes and hummed at her. "Had quite an adventure today, didn't you?" she smiled at him, her own eyelids heavy. "You'll behave and stay asleep tonight, please?" Another tiny yawn and a nose twitch- she kissed his forehead and settled down to sleep... but still her mind wandered towards Lancelot; instead she watched Galahad's little chest rise and fall, until at last, her eyelids could no longer stay open.

* * *

"Your Majesty... could you tell us about the woman in the mural?" Percival wondered as they ate with King Pelles. Lancelot let his mind wander a little since he had been told of the mural when he had arrived in Corbenic more than a year ago.

The depiction of the Holy Grail and its reputable crusade had been part of this castle since its construction- giving Corbenic its own reputation as being a key part of the quest itself. While many knights strived to be the one who would achieve the Sangreal, be it a chalice, a dish or a stone, many also believed that no knight could be pure enough to attempt the quest. What constituted "pure" in the eyes of the Grail Maiden, or whatever higher power protected the grail? Childlike innocence? Certainly the younger one was, the less evil that corrupted their mind, but how would the knight be able to conquer the perilous trials of the Grail without battle experience? Their teacher would have to be accomplished and thorough to train the knight for the various possibilities in combat, and his student would have to be just as sharp to outrun the corruption of age... Then again, if pure meant "chaste," a knight need only refrain from more...earthly pursuits.

By either interpretation, Lancelot could not pursue the Holy Grail. He hadn't considered achieving it before, but he would never be able to decide again- was this because he had coveted Guinevere, or succumbed to Elaine's temptation?

"The Grail Maiden- yes... she gives the Holy Grail to the knight that accomplishes the tasks."

"Is that all her role is, Your Majesty?" Percival asked, brow pinched. Lancelot perked his ears as he continued eating. Gawain had long since become a grazing cow sitting among them, oblivious to the noise.

"Well, no one knows for certain what form the Grail takes," King Pelles explained. "If it has a physical form, it would need careful guarding more so than if it was merely a magic force."

"Is she an angel, or mortal?"

"No one knows much about the Grail Maiden, either, I'm afraid- only that she gives the Grail to the worthy knight."

"So it's possible," Lancelot hummed, "that the Grail Maiden is just an ordinary woman, unaware of her role in the quest?"

The old king hummed, "It's possible... but I think it's unlikely- certainly, if she were entrusted with such a great responsibility, she would know."

"Would she, though," Percival mumbled to herself.

"So there's some poor woman out there who is just waiting for a holy knight, then?" Gawain snuffed- had he been paying attention all this time while filling himself? "And once the knight gets to her, then what happens to her?"

The king did not answer... Perhaps he was only guessing at the details of the Grail Maiden, and he was not as knowledgeable on her as he wanted to appear to them.

"Perhaps tomorrow, you should visit King Pellam," Lancelot suggested. The former king, it was rumored, was one of the "keepers of the Holy Grail"- those who _knew_ of the Grail's true form, its location, its powers, but couldn't achieve the Grail for themselves. Supposedly, the keepers of the Grail had strict rules to follow- the punishment of which was an untreatable wound.

"If you set out in the morning, you might be able to get to the coast and find him fishing," Lancelot added, brightening Percival's eyes.

"You're rather knowledgeable about Corbenic, Sir Lancelot."

"Well... no. I've only stayed here for a few days while I was taking care of the dragon." He'd wandered around Corbenic when he'd arrived so long ago to slay the dragon that was terrorizing it. The town was ragged and worn from the repeated attacks of the beast- the people were shrouded in a gray aura, no vitality to them. Once the dragon was killed, the people were revitalized, and the Fisher King himself sought an audience with the victorious knight. King Pellam himself was unable to move, so Lancelot had made his way to the coast to visit him. They spoke while the king's boat drifted about the cove- with the fair blue sky and calm sea, floating in the midst of it... though unlike his sylvan home, the cove held its own serene atmosphere to it.

Pellam seemed to know more about the Grail than his son, but didn't care much to linger on the matter. "I take it Pelles showed you the mural," he hummed, staring out to the water, waiting for the line to go taut. "What do you think of the Grail quest?"

"Sounds very grand and noble... but meant for a different sort of knight," he admitted, staring out towards the horizon. "His Majesty described it as if only an angel could achieve it."

The graying king chuckled as the line stretched- he pulled the fish up and kept going- "It's no wonder there's a lack of men adventuring to Corbenic for the Grail, if that is how it appears to the Ultimate Knight." He placed the wriggling, silver fish into the basket sitting between them and recast his line.

"The Grail Quest is easier than your son makes it to be?" he wondered- was the Holy Grail hidden within a relatively simple crusade? The king kept silent, as if listening for the fish. Perhaps answering that would cause him another wound- if it was true that he was a guardian of the Grail.

"I'm sure any quest for you would be 'easy,' Sir Lancelot," he hummed, still waiting for his next catch.

"I would assume that such a powerful object would require great skill and courage to earn... There are items in this world which have great tests before them."

Pellam smiled as he bobbed his rod. "The Sangreal is an object, hm?"

"Sire?" Lancelot raised a brow, careful not to tip the boat by moving closer suddenly. The old king asked it as a mother repeats a lie back to a child- was it possible that Gawain was right in saying that there was no such thing as the Holy Grail?

"When I was a boy, I used to study that mural... isn't it curious how the ball of light has nothing in its midst?"

"King Pelles interpreted it as meaning the Grail's form was unknown... are you suggesting it doesn't have a physical form?" To be fair, the quest would not change if the Grail was just powerful magic- but perhaps it was less about worthiness and more about magical knowledge. If a knowledgeable knight went to the end of the crusade, he may be able to unlock the mystery of the Grail that others couldn't.

The line became taut once more, and the king tugged at the rod- would he be able to land the fish? Helping him would risk capsizing the boat- and Lancelot did not want to endanger the disabled king's life for one fish.

Pellam yanked the rod, nearly losing his balance- the fish flew into the air, larger than the first- but its arc would land it back into the water- Lancelot's arm shot out, and was met with a wet, scaly tail. The king regained his balance, grinning as his companion dropped the large fish into the basket.

"My... that's quite a large one," he panted, setting his rod aside as he examined the flopping creature. "I haven't seen fish this large since..." Chuckles overtook the old king while his gaze fell on Lancelot.

"Do you find the Grail uninteresting because you believe it is unobtainable, or because its power doesn't appeal to you, Lancelot?"

He flicked an ear, "I... that is... I like to know what it is I'm risking my life for... what will mean my defeat or victory. Would I be doing its trials for a chalice that cures all impurities, or a stone that grants immortality? Or would I risk endangering Camelot by taking on that quest, wandering around all of Albion for something that requires the purest of souls to achieve, and return not only empty-handed, but with my king and knights defeated as well?"

Pellam smiled. "The young Arthur was right to choose you as his second-in-command. You would make a fine king yourself, if you wished." With all due respect, that fate belonged to Galahad of Benwick, he thought as he thanked the king for his words.

He hoped the Fisher King would enjoy seeing such an eager young knight taking an interest in the Grail. Percival had much to gain from such a quest, and little else to lose. She wouldn't be able to undertake the Grail's challenge yet, as she still needed to find her own battle style- a knight's penmanship- before she could face combat.

After dinner, the knights made their way to their quarters- Lancelot followed them to appear as he was staying in the same wing as them; the king had given Lancelot a room closer to Elaine's room than their guest rooms. Percival's gait seemed to bounce a little- anticipation for tomorrow?- while Gawain's was heavy with food.

"I wish King Arthur would have sent another knight," he yawned, "'cause there's no way I can keep an eye on Percival and you at the same time." The squire growled, tail lashing.

"She will be fine on her own," Lancelot argued. "And you'd hate to listen to two people talking about the Holy Grail, anyway."

They entered the dark, empty hallway, and Gawain snuffed. "What exactly _is_ Lady Elaine sick with?"

Lancelot's ear flicked as he and Percival stopped to face him. "Why do you ask? Are you suddenly concerned for my health?"

The echidna hummed, and Percival stepped towards him, her eyes burning like molten gold in the dim light, "Sir Gawain, what we heard was nothing more than wild speculation."

The hedgehog took a deep breath, wishing for Elaine's quick wit to counter whatever came out of the echidna's mouth. "Pray tell, what unsavory rumor have you bought into, Gawain," he sighed.

"Well, seems that some of Corbenic's people believe the Lady is with child," he explained, "or that her illness was brought about by le Fay and will soon ravage Albion as quick as wildfire."

He puffed, thankful Gawain led with Elaine being pregnant. "They're bold to spread such hearsays against their own king's daughter," he grumbled, "but her sickness is not infectious and it is improving. And as to the former, when exactly would the child have been conceived?"

The red knight shrugged, "but they think it's been born already, or soon to be born." His demeanor implied he was merely relaying the rumors, not that he believed in them. Lancelot's building irritation ebbed.

"Lady Elaine's appearance has not changed since she left Camelot," he replied, hoping to end the matter. "I'd offer to prove it to you, Gawain, but I'd rather not worsen the lady's condition with you entertaining those ideas." Lancelot's eyes narrowed as he went on, "I hope you aren't mentioning these lies to somehow shorten our stay in Corbenic by tarnishing my perception of Lady Elaine."

Gawain shook his head, "No, I just knew you'd be less likely to take stock in them if I said them than if you heard them yourself. I'd hate for Lady Elaine to experience your disappointment." And with that, he retired into his room, Percival heading to hers.

Lancelot barely stopped the bitter laugh from escaping his throat. He need not worry about that, he considered as he walked back to his room. Though, it'd been more charged than mere disappointment...

Ah! That was what he'd wanted to say to Elaine when he went to see her today- to apologize. But Galahad started crying, and holding him made him forget about the circumstances around the baby. The little hedgehog was as pure as the metal he resembled, and his bright sunflower eyes banished all evil thoughts from surfacing.

Tomorrow, he couldn't get distracted- it would likely be the last full day in Corbenic... and he didn't want to leave things as they were with Elaine. There were a few details he needed to discuss with her as well... he only hoped that they would have enough time.


	10. Chapter 10

Percival appeared to be bouncing on her way to saddle her horse and ride to the coast- King Pellam would certainly appreciate her childlike eagerness, Lancelot thought as he explained how to get to the Fisher King. There were few forks in the path to throw her off course, and she was bright enough not to get lost. Her confidence would be her only foe on the trip- aided by Gawain's grumbling.

As the young squire saddled her horse, Gawain mumbled, "How long are you going to let her keep dreaming?"

Lancelot sighed, closing his eyes, "Dreams keep our resolve from fading away. Be thankful that she's not running off to fight monsters before she's even picked up a blade."

"But when she realizes the truth," the echidna considered, "the weight of that dream will crush her."

Lancelot hummed, then "Perhaps she clings to such an impossible dream because she wants to be accepted by the others." He faced Gawain, "You and her brother do a fine job of stunting her morale."

The red knight returned his stare, "All of us gain endurance from training... some of us neglect more important parts of fighting, like conviction and resolve. Everyone has different ways of building up confidence."

"Bullying her will just make her distant," he mumbled, considering the ground. "I doubt you'd want two Lancelots." Gawain, likely gawking at him now, made a startled noise- but the dark hedgehog rubbed the knuckles on his left hand as an evoked pain rose to the surface.

"What's your opinion on using the left hand instead of the right?" Lancelot wondered, half to himself.

"What- Lancelot?"

"If one of our squires practiced with their left instead of their right... what would you do?"

The echidna hummed, then, "Maybe I'd give them a two-handed sword- so that they'd be using both hands- it would make it easier to spar with them."

A hollow laugh escaped Lancelot. "That's kind of you."

Gawain glanced at Lancelot's hands, then raised an eyebrow. "I take it you wished someone had done that when you were a child."

"Evidently, I didn't have it as bad as Bors did. He and Lionel would tell me what they were doing was nothing compared to what they had to deal with." Sure, a strike across the knuckles with a stick sounded preferable to a forceful stomp, but it didn't lessen the pain for a five year old Lancelot. Whenever he'd cry out that they were hurting him, they would say he was being weak.

"The fighting doesn't stop just 'cause you fall over and start crying! If this was the real world, you'd be dead now!" Bors shouted, looming over him with a makeshift sword. The two had been free of their captivity days earlier, still adjusting to being treated like children instead of prisoners. He stepped closer, "Do you want to die?"

"N-n-n-no," he choked out, shaking with fear, trying to keep from crying, but there were some tears trying to escape-

"Crybaby," Lionel grumbled from his brother's side. "You'll never survive out there- and you'll never be a knight- you're too pathetic." And the two turned away, running out of sight to fight, leaving Lancelot alone with their words.

"So... if you ask me, encouragement would be better... in the long run," Lancelot sighed, lowering his left hand... strange how after thirteen years, it would surface as if it was fresh... not unlike the phantom brushes that haunted him the past year.

Gawain scratched the side of his head, lowering his gaze as he hummed. "I guess I should leave being harsh to the master," he joked, trying to lighten the mood back up. He laughed a little, "And maybe you should leave the courting to Lamorak, eh?"

Lancelot snuffed, unable to laugh but understanding the levity glowing in the echidna's eyes. He closed his eyes, "I thought you'd offer to take up courting; you're more successful than he is in that area."

The knight held his head high, smirking, "If you say so- though, the Lady fair seems to admire you more than me."

Lancelot's ears twitched as he faced Gawain- "But- well, it's been sometime... there might be someone else." Someone who wouldn't wake her up with cold steel against her neck, maybe.

"She's certainly beautiful enough to attract men all over Albion." Gawain grinned, "but none of them will ever be the one that freed her from that hell on earth." Before he could argue, the echidna walked towards Percival, remarking, "Looks like there's more than one person around here in need of a confidence boost."

Lancelot snuffed, brow pinching at the laughing knight... Confidence... if only, he mused as he began to turn towards the castle. "I trust you'll make it back in one piece without my help."

"Give the lady our regards," Percival asked as she mounted her horse, urging it to gallop- Gawain cursing after the keen squire and jumping on his horse to chase her down.

"Ah... you aren't leaving..." Was that a sigh, or had she hurried over to catch them? Smudges of pink appeared under her eyes as she bobbed her head- the latter, then. After assuring she was alright, she managed to ask, "Percival's going to see Grandfather, then? I wish I could've gotten here sooner..."

He watched the bobbing red and purple spots disappear along the path, "I'm sure he's well; King Pellam is rather hardy, given the circumstances." With a small smile towards Elaine, "That calibre of resilience runs in the family, after all." She ducked her head into her shoulder, the pink smudges ripening.

"Think so?" she breathed, lowering her gaze to the ground- tiny little buds of future blooms swaying with the grass. Had the queen's flowers found their way out here, or were these of the wandering variety, brought here by worn soles and saddlebags? He nodded, imagining a curious crossbreed of the two blossoming in front of them.

With a shiver, Elaine glanced up at the sun, just barely in the sky. "Goodness... I was wondering why it was so cold- it's not even morning, yet." After rubbing her arms, she turned back to the castle. "Let's go back... hopefully he's still asleep." Lancelot leaped to her side, only realizing that he'd actually jumped at the opportunity to see Galahad when Elaine giggled at him.

In the gloom of dawn, the castle halls lay abandoned, empty and silent- even in the dead of night Camelot didn't look half as forlorn as Corbenic. Elaine trembled beside him, cold... or scared?

"What happened to this place..." he wondered, half to himself, but Elaine hummed, nodding.

"Grandfather used to say that Corbenic was almost as populous as Camelot is today... before he was injured. Then they moved away... they thought his injury was an omen for the fall of Corbenic." Lancelot kept a growl from rising in his throat before Elaine continued, "But, for a while at least, it seemed like they were right... Corbenic would be plagued with something new year after year: droughts, famine, raiders..." She furrowed her brow, considering the stone floor, "Or at least, that was what my father said. I can't actually remember anything terrible happening when I was little."

Lancelot raised an eyebrow, "How long has King Pellam had his injury?"

"He was injured, ah... about six or seven years before I was born... my father became king two years after that- you see, they thought maybe the injury and 'curse' was because King Pellam was too old to continue being king, but that didn't stop them."

"Perhaps it was only a seven year plague, then," he offered, and she bobbed her head- but then again, after eighteen years, that dragon had laid waste to a struggling Corbenic... had it been coincidence? Why would misfortune lay low for such a long time before striking again?

Galahad lay on Elaine's bed, nose wrinkling just a little before she scooped him up- "I'm right here... I wasn't gone that long, was I?" She sat down on the bed, beaming down at the tiny hedgehog. "Are you angry with me?" she teased, nosing the little face. He whimpered a little but seemed to have forgiven her, nestling against her chest with only a furrowed brow- Lancelot bit his lip to keep from laughing at the tiny pinched face. Elaine smiled, petting Galahad's head as the frown dissolved.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring him when you came out to see us," he admitted, wondering if it was okay to sit next to her or if he should stay standing. "He might've started making a fuss while you were away."

She hummed, "Well, my father did put me in this wing of the castle... there isn't much use for a second living area when half of the people who used to live here have moved away, except for storage." A smile grew as she stared off into her childhood, "I used to explore this wing when I was little... I pretended that I was looking for the Holy Grail among all the dusty furniture... Whenever I found a chalice I'd show it to Grandfather, and he'd ask me where I found it, what I had to do to get to it... and I'd have to make crawling under tables and climbing on trunks into an adventure worthy of finding the Holy Grail."

Lancelot smirked, imagining the perils she'd invented as a child. "And how many Grails did you find?"

She rocked her head to the side, "Well, I think it was the seventh or sixth- that was after I found out about my magic abilities, other than healing... oh! The seventh one, yes... I found one, and I thought I would surprise him by making the chalice glow."

Elaine secured Galahad in the hook of her elbow before gesturing with her hand, "When I showed him this one, I made it glow-" lights like fireflies sparked from her fingertips, soft white fading into specks as they drifted away. "It lasts longer on an object- Grandfather leapt out of his chair and raised me up- he paraded me around the room on his shoulders." She laughed, "I didn't even know he had the strength to do that..."

Her warm smile stayed a few moments longer, before it darkened and fell away. "Father didn't think so either." Elaine returned to cradling her sleeping bundle as she explained, "He thought I was exhausting Grandfather and getting his hopes up... so my little crusades came to an end, and... that was when Grandfather left for the coast." Her finger brushed across a gray-silver strand of Galahad's hair. "I was able to go visit him, but... I think that was the happiest I'd been, before le Fay."

Lancelot sat next to her as she grew quiet, her eyes a night without stars. He felt the castle growing even more empty without King Pellam. The rooms full of hidden objects became dusty rooms with too much furniture... and he doubted her father let her run off to the coast often. No other children to play with, her father busy keeping Corbenic alive... She probably stayed in the garden, to be near her mother's flowers... and that's when she was abducted by Morgan le Fay.

After a few moments of silence, she shook her head, "Sorry... I didn't mean to get so melancholy when it's your last day here." She considered Galahad, smiling, "What exactly are we going to do with you, Galahad?"

He stared at her profile, summoning both the courage and the right words to say... "Elaine..." Her eyes met his, the fear from that morning muted, but still boring into him. "I..." he had to take another deep breath to find his voice, "I'm sorry for reacting as I did." No emotion peered out from her eyes. "I...I had no right to..." The words receded, and after stumbling all he could offer was, "I'm sorry."

She turned away from him. As if apologizing would wipe it away... the room froze over as he hung his head. He was surrounded by those fearful eyes until a whisper rose from the silence.

"Why didn't you...follow through?"

Lancelot's right hand shuddered. "I... expected you to fight back...To convince me not to kill you... I... I _wanted_ you to fight back," he admitted, glancing at a curtain of black hair. "But you didn't. You just... surrendered."

Galahad wiggled in his sleep, still trying to bury himself in his mother, who watched over the hoglet. Another long silence as he waited for her to respond.

"I was afraid that your answer would be much worse..." He could almost hear the air filling her chest. Elaine faced him, eyes glittering as she smiled. "I should have said this sooner, but... thank you for sparing me."

They were in the woods again... "I- you don't need to thank me for that," he fumbled as fire crackled nearby. The side of his head started to itch, just behind the ear- "I've probably given you nightmares."

She lowered her eyes, "I was a little afraid when you arrived... But as soon as you held Galahad, I knew you wouldn't hurt him... I wasn't afraid of you hurting me as much as I was afraid for Galahad."

Lancelot hummed... "You would have fought back if you knew you were pregnant, then?" She nodded, her arms wrapping around her child, as if warding away cold or attackers. He considered the wall behind her, hoping that if she had said so, he would have believed her. Even so, they were alive...

"What were you planning to do about raising him?"

Elaine watched the hoglet's mouth expand and contract in time with his chest. "I don't think raising him in Corbenic would do him any favors..." she sighed. "Briselda told me there's rumors going around about me already."

He hummed, "Gawain and Percival heard some of them as well- they don't believe any of them, of course."

"Father thought he could keep this a secret and have me here... I wanted to stay elsewhere, even if it was just in that fishing town with Grandfather." Her eyes moved around the ceiling as if hearing footsteps... Trapped again, he thought, in an empty castle.

"Briselda mentioned taking me somewhere quieter, once... She thought I could use more fresh air without worrying about being discovered, but I think my father turned her down." Another breath, "Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating..."

"Wouldn't it make sense to send you away if you have a sickness?" Lancelot asked. "If you were ill, he could have easily said you were being secluded to keep it from spreading to the rest of the castle."

A cough-like laugh, "I said the same thing to him, but he thought sending me away would rouse more suspicion."

Galahad squirmed, a little whimper rising from him. She cooed, petting his head before her eye caught Lancelot watching them. "Do you want Sir Lancelot to hold you?" she whispered. "I know you like his fur." The knight chuckled before she passed the baby to him. As soon as he laid Galahad near his favorite headrest, the child smiled. Lancelot prayed his heartbeats weren't disturbing the hoglet- they were pounding in his own ears.

What if Corbenic fell victim to misfortune again- to a fearsome beast with a lust for blood? Corbenic had nothing but old castle walls to defend itself... If Galahad lived in Camelot it would be a different story-

 _Fool!_ You can't shelter your illegitimate child in Camelot- not without explaining yourself to your king. Arthur might overlook a drunken tryst, but he certainly wouldn't look past you willingly spending a night with a woman you thought was his Guinevere! At that revelation, the king would probably run him through with Caliburn while the rest of the Round Table cheered. Besides, King Pelles might not appreciate his grandson being taken out of his own household. If Galahad and his parentage were made known, Pelles would probably force the both of them to be married- causing a horde of political ramifications to ripple across Albion.

All of this for Galahad's safety? There had to be safe, secluded places he could be raised- he just needed to find one...

"There must be somewhere you can grow up," he whispered, stroking the silver infant. "And once you've grown up, I'll teach you to become a fine knight." Elaine laughed- and Lancelot's ear flicked. "Uhm, as long as that's what he wants."

She smiled, "I'm sure he'd want to be like the great Sir Lancelot."


End file.
